


Martyr

by Moonrose91



Series: The Story of Maxwell Trevelyan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Eventual Dorian Pavus/Male Mage Trevelyan, Eventual Friendship, Friendship - Relationship Tag for Inquisition Members, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, mentioned child death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 71,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a price to keeping others safe.</p><p>Maxwell wonders just how high that price will be for the Inquisition and who will have to pay the bulk of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After Falling from the Fade

**Author's Note:**

> The reason I clicked the Rape/Non-Con, and then specified is due to the fact that it is in the past, but the character who was raped, Maxwell Trevelyan, my male Mage Inquisitor, is traumatized and it still affects him.
> 
> This fanfic is going to go into that. The Rape mention will be semi-graphic, and his thought process sometimes alludes to it.
> 
> Because he's traumatized and he's only recently escaped that trauma.
> 
> Very recently.
> 
> So, please proceed with caution.
> 
> I don't want anyone to get triggered, but it happens even when prepared, and I just hope to help keep my readers from being triggered with liberal use of warnings within the Author's Note, so please at least give a quick glance at them. I will try to put in the chapter title if there are warnings being applied.
> 
> Thus the Mature rating.
> 
> There _will be_ future consensual sex happening between Maxwell and Dorian.
> 
>  **Warnings for this Chapter!**  
>  [A lot of it is me being better safe than sorry.]
> 
> \- Emetophobia  
> \- Maxwell knows how to adjust on his knees while on stone to keep his legs from going completely numb.  
> \- Just various thought processes where Maxwell alludes, but doesn't really think about, his rape and abuse.

Maxwell hissed through his teeth as the green lightning sparked from his hand, making the ache that had taken up residence there leap into a fiery agony he had never experienced before.

It shot up through his bones, racing through his shoulder and along his jaw until it resided in his left temple, joining the headache already there.

He panted through his nose as he adjusted his position on his knees, trying to lessen the pins and needles that would soon dissolve into numbness from the knees down. He gritted his teeth against the pain at the resurgence of pins and needles that meant blood flow had resumed and he twitched when he saw a sword jerk more towards him.

He had forgotten he had an audience willing to kill him.

Almost like the Circle that.

He looked over when he heard the door slam over and winced back slightly at the brightness, compared to the dim prison he was being held in, as two women strode in.

Maxwell felt himself loosen as his eyes fell on the woman in armor, shoulders falling, trying to make himself look smaller on the stone, eyes falling away from both women.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is  _dead_ , except for you!" the woman in the armor with the eyeball emblazoned on the chest piece demanded, the threat of violence clear, but Maxwell was forced into silence by his relief.

His sister was safe because he had taken her place at the Conclave.

She wasn’t dead because he had put himself in the way once more.

He breathed slowly and didn’t react when one of his manacled hands, the one that was once again flaring up with green lightning, was jerked up in her grip. “Explain this!” she demanded in a low growl.

“I can’t,” he answered stoically through a dry throat and he didn’t even twitch when she threw his hand back down with a noise of frustration as he swallowed sharply.

How long had he been out?

“What do you mean ‘you _can’t_ ’?” she demanded in a disbelieving tone.

“I don’t know what it is or how it got there,” Maxwell responded as he loosened his limbs further as she grabbed him once more, hauling him onto a bad spot of his knees, his kneecaps digging into the stones.

He makes sure not to look at her as she snarled out a sharp, “You’re lying!”

Maxwell breathed out through his nose slowly so he didn’t sigh in relief when he was released thanks to the woman in purple’s intervention. “We need him, Cassandra!” she snapped and Maxwell adjusted his position on the stone, but he had lost the place he had found before.

He was moved out of his original place entirely, it seemed, and he kept his face carefully blank as he looked up in their direction. “What happens now?” he asked and the woman in purple turned to him.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” she asked and Maxwell frowned slightly.

This woman would want an answer. The other, Cassandra, she was too hot-headed; she would just trample over any responses.

The woman in purple would _drag them_ from him, if he did not produce them willingly.

He shifted his hands slightly, ignoring the weight of the solid manacles.

“I…I was being chased,” he began as he glanced up at her, briefly (a flash of red in shadow, under the purple hood), and this his eyes darted back down.

“By…things. And then there was a…” he paused and frowned at the woman in purple’s boots.

It was vague, a shift of a sense. “A woman?” he finished, questioning his own memory.

He had no recollection from the moment after he entered the Temple of Sacred Ashes to when he woke up in this cell.

He hadn’t even really looked at his surroundings, just been dragged out of a smaller cell into the bigger cell when he awoke and had swords pointed at him.

It was a cell, no matter how big it was and he, a prisoner.

Maybe they would dress it up in pretty words later, if he proved useful to them, much like the title of _Enchanter_.

“A woman?” the woman in purple demanded skeptically.

“I think she reached out to me, but…” Maxwell explained, but the memory was gone.

It was wisps of a dream, and he forced himself to relax further, dropping his shoulders, his head. Look small, keep down, don’t fight back.

Fighting back will make it worse, or turn their gaze to another.

(Though, in this case, there was no other, except those he had left behind in the Free Marches. Fereldan was not for them, especially once a bulk of the Templars raced after the Mages who went to where the King, Alistair, offered them protection.)

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the Rift,” Cassandra said and Maxwell would really have preferred being left with the lady in purple, Leliana, than Cassandra.

He does not twitch, does not flinch, when Cassandra briskly knelt in front of him and began to unlock the manacles.

12 years of practice does that.

“What _did_ happen?” he asked calmly.

12 years of practice hadn’t stopped his curiosity.

Something bad, very bad, happened at the Conclave. Something that had thrown everyone out of balance and grasping for something, anything, to put the blame on for it.

That ‘anything’ was most likely being served by Maxwell and he kept his face impassive.

If everyone was dead, that meant most of the Chantry leaders were too. Including Divine Justinia, which was probably the worst part of the news.

She had a good head on her shoulders, from what Maxwell had heard. And while he _had_ heard rumors of mage assassins trying to get to her, he would put suspicion to the Crows being hired by someone who wanted to throw blame onto the Mage Rebellion before he would throw blame onto the Mage Rebellion itself (especially as, yes, the Crows had Mages, and yes, he had learned that as a child, before his magic showed because his mother was a ‘fine Antivian lady’ and joked about _poison_ ).

He was not part of the damn Rebellion, he was just trying to keep those he could alive and out of the line of fire.

“It will be easier to show you,” Cassandra said as she hauled him to his feet, the sudden feeling of being on his feet nearly making him gasp in shock or collapse back down on the ground.

He managed to do neither.

She quickly bound his wrists together with rough rope and then tugged him out, through the Chantry and into the snow-bright world of outside. Maxwell couldn’t help but flinch back, trying to cover his eyes, and he turned his head away slightly before he managed to get his automatic reactions under control. He managed to look up and stared at the _giant hole in the sky_!

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra stated, but the rest of her words were lost in a haze of pain as his left hand seemed to _split open_ and the pain forced him to his knees, the snow soaking through the cloth parts of his gifted armor.

That was worse than the first shock of pain.

Cassandra was kneeling in front of him now and he looked up at her. “Every hour, it spreads, along with the Mark on your hand. It _is_ killing you,” she stated and Maxwell stared at her.

“I think you can help, but we must try it out on something smaller first,” she stated and Maxwell continued to stare at her, his eyes darting across hers, trying to find a sense of deception.

He found none.

“All right,” he stated and she blinked twice rapidly.

“You’ll help?” she questioned.

“If I can,” Maxwell answered and then she was helping him to his feet.

* * *

Maxwell resisted the urge to dig his thumb into his palm, frowning over how it throbbed in time with his heartbeat, each throb skittering up his arm and hitting him straight in the temple.

Fighting demons was…exhausting. He felt drained (and not just from the fighting) and only his simplest of spells could be reached.

Maxwell blamed the mark on his left palm.

He was once an Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle and while, yes, mostly that title had been merely a way to grant him apartments that were…easier to access, it was also a reflection of his ability. He was, and is, _good_. Magic was easy as breathing for him, and he could breathe without thinking about it or with any difficulty.

So this…inability to reach his spells, his mana reacting sluggishly with the more powerful spells (not even able to put up a _Barrier_ for Fade’s sake), was driving him up the wall, but he knew it was from the Mark.

He could feel it, the mana that was not his own (could feel it twisting around his mana, strangling it) inside the Mark and curling up through his bones.

He hoped it would clear itself up, and he made a fist before he rolled his hand around, and then began to move forward. “Is that fighting up ahead?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cassandra answered.

“Fucking demons,” Maxwell grumbled, not even hesitating to jump to that conclusion.

Getting to the top of the snow covered stone steps further exhausted him and he wasn’t surprised to see soldiers, a mage (probably an Elf) and a Dwarf with a crossbow fighting off demons.

Well, the soldiers and demons (Shades, actually) were unsurprising.

The Elf Mage and the Dwarf with the crossbow were, however.

He snarled and without hesitation, threw Chain Lightning, wincing when it back fired and hit him instead because he used his left hand.

Fucking stupid piece of shit Mark.

He moved his staff to his left hand and threw the spell again with his right, this time hitting one of the Shades, having it arc off and hit the other one around the Mage and then Maxwell threw himself into the fight.

His mana surged, trying to leap up to help him, but it was being strangled by the Mark’s mana, so he ignored it. Worked with what he could use it and began to spin his staff around and soon the last of the Shade Demons fell.

The other mage, and yes he was an Elf, suddenly grabbed his wrist. “Quick, before more come through!” he shouted and shoved Maxwell’s hand toward the Rift.

It went from a throbbing to _burning like knives and whips and worse_ racing up his arm, encompassing his left hand entirely, skittering up his bones and _slamming_ into his left temple.

He let out a strangled sound and when he managed to pull himself away from the Elf Mage, he turned away, clutching on the nearest non-person thing he could find and away from people and _heaved_.

His body screamed with the agony and as his throat burned with bile, landing green in the snow, but he just kept heaving. When it was all over, his throat and nose were burning and he was standing there, shivering from a combination of the cold and the pain that was still racing through his body.

He was unsure if his headache, the pain from the Mark, his exhaustion, or the fact he hadn’t eaten since Fade knew when or if it was a combination of them all that was the cause of heaving up bile and he didn’t really care.

He would just rather never do that again.

“Well, that was unpleasant,” he stated and he glanced at the Elf Mage, who was staring at him with a look that made Maxwell narrow his eyes slightly at the other Mage.

He wasn’t sure what the look was about, but something about it made Maxwell twitch.

“What did you just do?” Maxwell asked and he noticed the Elf Mage smile a bit before it disappeared.

“ _I_ did nothing. You did. I had a theory that your mark would seal the Rifts, and I was right. It seems you are the key to our salvation,” he stated and Maxwell stared.

“Then it seems I can help after all,” Maxwell responded, shaking his left hand and not voicing his _own_ thoughts.

The Mark was the key. He was the wielder. Long story short, it was simpler to say he was the key.

“Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller and, occasionally, unwelcome tagalong,” the Dwarf, Varric, said, followed by a wink at Cassandra.

The name of the apparently _suicidal_ Dwarf rang a bell in Maxwell’s head, but he pushed it to the side. “A pleasure to meet you, Varric Tethras,” Maxwell stated, with a polite half-bow to the Dwarf, which got an honest smile out of the rogue.

“You may reconsider that statement in due time,” the Mage said and Maxwell gave a small shrug.

“I am Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am glad to see you still live,” Solas stated.

“He means that he kept the Mark from killing you while you slept,” Varric translated and Maxwell gave the Mage, Solas, a half-bow similar to what he had given Varric, while he said his thanks.

Solas gave a small nod of his head in return and Maxwell began to pace around, letting his staff sweep in front of him as they talked behind him.

He could help, and he would do his best to assist.

He had an execution to dodge, after all.

* * *

Maxwell shook out his left hand. “You are becoming quite proficient at this,” Solas stated and Maxwell gave a small shrug, still shaking out his hand.

“So it would seem,” Maxwell answered.

“Lady Cassandra, I knew you’d come for us,” one of the surviving scouts stated and Maxwell focused on them.

“It was the prisoner’s decision to come this way,” Cassandra admitted and Maxwell focused on the scout.

“The prisoner? Then…” she said and her voice trailed off.

It was painful, to realize your faith had been misplaced. Experience had taught him that too.

“If I could save even one of you, it was worth it,” Maxwell responded with a half-bow, ducking his head slightly.

“Thank you, ser,” she answered and pressed her fist to her heart.

“The way behind us is clear. You can get back with no trouble,” Cassandra stated and the scout gave a nod before she ran off with her group.

The scouts were just out of ear-shot when Varric said, “At least you didn’t hurl this time.”

“I didn’t _hurl_ the time before the gates either,” Maxwell answered.

“You’re right. You just dry heaved violently. What is that about anyway?” Varric answered.

Maxwell felt his face become a mask as he turned away. “How do we get to the temple remains from here?” he asked and took a step forward only to have his vision grey out briefly.

He paused and closed his eyes, even as he wavered. He felt gauntleted hands hold onto him, keeping him upright and he swallowed convulsively. “Is it the Mark?” Solas questioned.

“Not entirely,” Maxwell answered as he opened his eyes.

Solas was frowning, but Varric just gave him a raised eyebrow in response.

He knew what was wrong with Maxwell then. Or this part, at least.

Maxwell stood up more on his own two feet and used his staff for balance, thankful when Cassandra just let him go. “Which way?” he asked.

“Down the path. The ladders down will take us straight to the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Cassandra responded.

Maxwell nodded, swallowed, and began to move.

* * *

“When was the last time you ate?” Varric asked quietly.

He had somehow managed to get right on Maxwell’s heels and they had gone down the ladders, quickly, (probably too quickly) and were now waiting in at the bend in the path for Casandra and Solas.

Also, admittedly, because Maxwell needed to regain his balance and ease back the nausea and light-headedness that came from whatever void his entire being had been dragged through.

“I honestly do not remember. What I do remember, for certain, was going to the Temple. I got a ride with a…caravan, let’s say. Dwarves who _swore_ they were merchants. I didn’t believe them, but they fed me, gave me something to wear that didn’t scream ‘mage’, shelter, and didn’t slit my throat, so I was going to pretend I did, in fact, believe them,” Maxwell answered.

“High standards,” Varric answered.

“Not at all. My usual standards are ‘don’t slit my throat’ and food _or_ shelter. Truly, they exceeded expectations. Had things gone differently, I think I may have been hired full-time,” Maxwell answered and Varric chuckled a little before he became a bit more somber.

“So, seriously, you have no idea?” he asked and Maxwell shook his head cautiously.

Shaking it too much unbalanced him slightly.

“Shit,” Varric said.

“My feelings exactly,” Maxwell answered and turned, heading down the path.

He heard Varric ask Solas about the hole in the sky, if it could happen accidentally, but he walked on, not intruding with his own questions, Cassandra at his heels.

Though the idea that this was an _accident_ …

Maxwell frowned. It was possible.

He bit back a sigh. He needed Frederick and his studious mind and the thought made something hard swell up in his throat, forcing him to swallow around the lump sharply.

By the Fade, did he need _Frederick_ , but that…was gone, and he swallowed it back and tucked it away to deal with it later, choking back his…reaction to just thinking about Frederick still.

It had been eight damn years there was…

He swallowed sharply and walked a little faster.

* * *

Pride Demons were horrible to fight, especially when they had a Rift behind them to summon nuisances like the stupid Shades.

Maxwell was bleeding on the arm from where one Shade had gotten through the armor given to him by the Dwarves, he was beyond exhausted, his vision was going wonky, and he was sure that any vestiges of energy he might have had were dried up due to the fight he had just finished.

But…

One last push, one last reach, Maxwell felt like he was being _pulled_ as the magic that was not his used him as a channel, trying to…close the Breach, maybe, but he didn’t think he would survive that.

He focused, instead, on stabilizing it. He couldn’t close it, but maybe he could stop it from splitting open.

And the mana in the Mark stopped trying to strangle his mana, allowing his mana burst forth like a river breaking through a dam, and Maxwell gasped as unconsciousness claimed him thanks to the surge of power that left him completely drained.


	2. After Becoming the Herald (Warnings in Author's Note)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER!!**  
>  \- Emetophobia (none directly happens, just mentioned pointedly)  
> \- Canon-Typical Violence (that might become a tag)  
> \- Killing of Family Members (Maxwell is directly responsible for two family member deaths in this chapter)

* * *

Maxwell hadn’t been entirely sure until he opened his eyes that he would survive whatever he did with the Breach. He remembered changing his focus from closing it to stabilizing it and the Mark reacting appropriately, followed by the sheer amount of power sending him into darkness.

It hadn’t been the best wake-up.

His ribs were hurting in a way that said they were cracked and his right ankle, which had never healed right after he had…tumbled down the stairs when he was 25, was throbbing. There had also been an Elf terrified of him and begging for his forgiveness.

Forgiveness for what, he wasn’t sure, having just woken up and was very confused over his _very_ changed circumstances.

Then there was walking through Haven once more, only with reverence instead of hatred dogging his heels. He had never been so relieved to be in a Chantry than that moment, though this was followed by overhearing Chancellor Roderick snarling at Cassandra with Cassandra snarling right back. He had hesitated outside the doors and then he entered the room, and then…

The Left and the Right Hands of the Divine were defending him, keeping the Chancellor from touching him, and dragging him into the Inquisition all at the same time.

He stabilized the Breach, he could exert some control over the Rifts, and he knew they, well at least Sister Leliana, were crafting chains to hold him to the Inquisition, their only claim to power once the Chantry denounces them, and the Chantry would.

Once he agreed (in the loosest sense of the term (he had no illusions he had a _choice_ in this situation) to join the Inquisition, they gave him a new set of light armor and paraded him out for the _adoring_ masses who only a day ago were spitting on him, essentially.

Now they called him the _Herald of Andraste_ , their hero sent by blessed Andraste herself to deliver them from this new danger.

Of course, much like the tile of Enchanter, it was just a prettier word for _prisoner_.

* * *

“So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, how’re you holding up?” Varric asked and Maxwell stared at him.

“I mean, you went from being the most wanted criminal in all of Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day,” Varric continued and Maxwell let out a little huff, running his right hand over his aching scars.

“Actually trying not to think about it. Too many people died up there and we…” Maxwell answered only to feel his voice break, trailing off as he swallowed back his tears.

Without a doubt he had lost family there and so had others, others he would likely never see. Varric sighed and gave a small nod of his head. “A lot of good people died up on that mountain. I was almost one of them. For days we were staring up at the Breach watching demons and who knows what else falling out of it. “Bad for morale” was an understatement. I’m still surprised anyone was in there and lived,” Varric stated and Maxwell looked at the fire.

“I can’t believe it either,” Maxwell answered.

“Well, if this is the Maker’s idea of a joke, I’m still waiting for the punchline,” Varric stated and Maxwell gave a humorless chuckle before he nodded.

“Right. Off to go talk to Adan the…alchemist? I believe he is the alchemist,” Maxwell stated.

“Making the rounds, Herald?” Varric asked and Maxwell smiled at that before he looked up at Varric.

“I like to know who I am surrounded by. I’ll talk to you later Varric,” he stated and walked toward Adan’s apothecary.

If, on the way, he spoke to Solas, the Elf Apostate who carried a _reason_ to be here, and it was not out of the goodness of his heart, that was his own business.

Maxwell recognized the look of one doing something out of guilt-ridden duty from years of looking in the mirror and _hating himself_ for that self-same look.

* * *

Ambassador Josephine, Commander Cullen ("former" Templar), and Sister Leliana, plus Seeker Cassandra, packed into one small room, surrounding a war table, practically ordering him to the Hinterlands to speak with Mother Giselle.

He had had a nightmare sort-of like this once.

Well…less nightmare, more a memory playing out in his sleep to wake him up and make him vomit.

He preferred nightmare.

“I will go speak with this Mother Giselle, especially since she asked for me,” he said before he turned and walked back out of that room.

He was in no right state of mind to _stay_ there.

* * *

“So, what’s the plan here, exactly?” Varric asked as Maxwell lead Solas, Varric, and Cassandra out of earshot of the refugees, pointedly looking around to make sure none were close before he tucked himself with his back against the cliff face.

“We need to help the refugees, stop the Templars and Apostates from destroying what’s _left_ of the land, and close every single Rift we come across and pray that will be enough to stabilize things to allow the Inquisition scouts and soldiers, of which we have too few of both, to continue to hold this area while Mother Giselle goes to Haven to assist us with the bigger picture, which is to force the chancellors and other Chantry-folk lose their unified voice so we can actually _do_ something about the Fade-forsaken hole in the sky,” Maxwell recited.

“Technically, the Breach is a connection into the Fade, so it is not Fade-forsaken, but I see your point,” Solas stated.

“Can we really take the time to help the refugees ourselves?” Cassandra questioned.

“We have no choice. Until we can put down stakes for further settlements, which will allow others to clear out the demons and, possibly, the remaining Apostates and Templars, we’re the only ones who can move safely through the Hinterlands. And if we _don’t_ help, the refugees will either freeze to death, starve to death, or die of infection. Or all three. Corporal Vale was quite succinct about what was needed and why. We need to stabilize this area, at least somewhat, before we can go to Val Royeaux, no matter how much we may want to rush to close the Breach,” Maxwell answered with a small shrug.

“Also, we’re here to talk to this…Horsemaster Dennet and I would like to at least get a _start_ on speaking with him about horses for the Inquisition before we head to Val Royeaux. Especially if he requires us to do something for him so we can get those horses,” he added.

“Paying the Healer before receiving the help?” Varric asked.

“Essentially. Besides, _everything_ has a cost. I like to know my costs up front,” Maxwell responded as he stood up, rolling his shoulders slightly as he did so.

“Let’s head up this way. Corporal Vale said we should talk to a Hunter about the food shortage problem, then Recruit Whittle after that,” Maxwell stated and headed for where the Hunter was.

And if he agreed to help a man get medicine for his wife from his son, well, that was his own business.

* * *

The barrier in front of the cave the Apostates were holed up in shattered under Maxwell’s determination to see it fall, even though a spell, a Winter spell, hit him full force as he still wasn’t able to produce a Barrier of his own.

He hit the ground even as a Barrier sprung up around him.

He shook off the ice crystals and got to his feet, striding into the cave and the fight, a bolt from Bianca flying past his shoulder to embed itself into the throat of the mage in front of the one Maxwell was about to engage.

He heard a sharp gasp and he didn’t hesitate to set the Spellbinder on fire to give himself a moment to look over.

An apostate had fallen under the wagon, the blood spreading across the torso suggesting it was Cassandra who had ended that apostate’s life and he could _swear_ he rec-

His Barrier shook around him and he returned his focus to the fight until the last Apostate fell to Cassandra’s sword.

Only then did he walk over to the apostate under the wagon and hauled them…her out. He stared down at the face like a porcelain doll’s and he sighed, closing his eyes as he bowed his head. “Oh, Helene,” he whispered.

“Did you know this apostate?” Cassandra asked and Maxwell opened his eyes.

“Yes. She was Senior Enchanter Lydia’s apprentice before…before her death. Senior Enchanter Lydia’s, that is, not…not Helene’s. She came from Orlais. The daughter of a merchant, and not a very good one, from what I remember. I had hoped she was with Grand Enchanter Fiona,” he said as he pressed his hand to her forehead.

“Senior Enchanter Lydia had a couple of apprentices, actually. She got ‘special compensation’ for it, but she was…she was very proud of Helene. Thought she had a lot of promise,” Maxwell continued as he stared down at her.

He incinerated her without further hesitation, the flames born of magic quickly turning her to ash and he sighed, staring sightlessly at where her body once lay. “Aegis?” Varric questioned and Maxwell stood up with a quick shake of his head.

“Let’s just…burn the rest of the bodies and head to the Templar Encampment next,” Maxwell responded and they split apart to do as he had, practically, ordered.

He made a face, even as he turned a Spellbinder with Bianca’s bolt through his throat to ash.

* * *

Lightning leapt from his fingers as he struck out at the Templar charging for Solas, leaving himself open for a shield bash from the Templar charging for _him_.

It knocked him clear off his feet and he hit the ground with a long, drawn-out, groan. He moved enough to avoid the sword coming down for his head and he got to his feet, stumbling back slightly in time to watch Cassandra knock the Templar off his feet.

He reached for his mana and encased the Templar in ice, the Templar shattering under Cassandra’s Shield Bash. He turned away from the Templar, only to watch as the combination of Solas and Varric downed the second one. “Everyone all right?” he questioned.

“I’m quite well Ser Trevelyan,” Solas stated.

“I’m good,” Varric said.

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and Maxwell nodded before he turned to the still…whole Templar. “Why do you burn the bodies?” Solas asked as Maxwell knelt down to pull off the helmet so he could get the fire to him.

“Andrastian tradition,” Maxwell answered as he finally got the helmet off, only to have it fall from numb fingers as he stared down at the face of his cousin, Bernard.

“You know, this day can go to the Void,” Maxwell snapped as he pressed his hand to Bernard’s forehead and swallowed sharply.

He breathed and leaned over his cousin as, with a rush of flames, the body turned to ashes. “Find peace, Ser Bernard Trevelyan,” Maxwell murmured and stood up, pausing only long enough to wipe off his face with the palm of his hand, ignoring the feel of his scars under his palm, and marched forward.

“Let’s just…finish this. And then get to a camp. Or Redcliffe Farms. Or both, if that is applicable,” Maxwell said as he continued to march forward.

The bile rose in the back of his throat as he marched through the encampment, not hesitating in the face of helmeted Templars rushing him, snarling when his spells bounced off shields and getting on top of boxes and boulders to try and get _over_ the shields instead with his spells.

He ignored how his right ankle wobbled dangerously under him each time he did so and the way the breath left his lungs when he was _slammed_ into by the Templars when he turned his focus to protecting his teammates instead of himself.

* * *

Maxwell’s fingers shook as he reached for the helmet of the Templar in command of the encampment, but he managed to steady himself enough to pull it off. He nearly fell over in relief when it wasn’t a face he knew and placed his hand to the forehead, turning the body to ash. “Don’t burn anyone before I get a chance to see them,” Maxwell called as he began to go through, his hand shaking every time he reached for a helmet before he managed to pull it off.

On the last helmeted Templar that Maxwell reached, he sunk to the ground and covered his face with both hands, to hide the sight of his slightly older brother Flynn staring back up at him, though it was already burned into his mind.

“Today can just burn,” he choked out as he tried to gather his reserves so he could burn one last body.

His older brother’s body.

His hands shook as he dropped them from his face, his right hand shaking violently as he laid it on Flynn’s forehead. “Be at peace, Ser Flynn Trevelyan,” he whispered as he turned his brother to ash before he slumped back against the rocks and stared at the sky through the leaves of the trees above.

* * *

Maxwell settled on the stones that framed the camp on the outskirts of Redcliffe Farms.

He had, unwillingly, wiped out a whole pack of wolves, and tomorrow he was going to be heading back to Haven before going to Val Royeaux. The watchtowers would be built in his absence, and then he could, hopefully, get Horsemaster Dennet to give the Inquisition his horses and, even better, join the Inquisition to look after the horses himself.

Maxwell knew that the Inquisition needed the best and that’s what he was going to aim for.

He resisted the urge to snort.

He was hardly the _best_ , but he would _give_ the Inquisition his best.

And he needed to send a letter to his sister, who would, in turn, tell the rest of the…village, he assumed. Maybe it was a hamlet?

The exact terminology was lost on him, but had Mage and Tranquil, some of the ‘mages’ children apprentices, and they…

He let out a long, low sigh and buried his hands in his hair.

Right. He could not deal with their troubles. He could trust Enchanter Ava Garel, Frederick Alesso, and his little sister, Fortunata, to keep things going there. They all knew how to run a small village, how to prioritize. They could accomplish the big picture of _survival_.

His big picture had to be in sealing the Breach. To seal the Breach, he needed to get a meeting with either the Mages or the Templars. He was leaning toward the Mages as he did not think he would be able to handle the Templars. Or…being surrounded by them or dealing with them or…

He took a deep breath and focused.

Neither side would talk to them however, due to the unified voice of the Chantry. Thus he needed to disrupt their voice, to get them, as Mother Giselle so succinctly put it, to _doubt_. And he had gathered up the power, so…time to disrupt their voice.

He was a step closer to settling the big picture and then he could wrap up the last bit of little things and _go back_ to his Apostate Village and hide from the world.

Maybe Clan Lavellan would be willing to assist, but the rest of the Dalish clans that moved through the area did their best to avoid the new _shem_ settlement.

Maxwell sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face and gave himself a shake before he dropped his hands to rest in his lap, lifting his face to stare at the unfamiliar sky.

“Not able to sleep?” Varric asked and Maxwell started almost violently, grabbing at his chest right over his heart.

“For Fade’s sake, Varric, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Maxwell said as he looked over at Varric and Varric chuckled, slowly settling down next to him.

Maxwell shook his head slightly and looked out over the camp, to where a green light of a Rift opening flickered. “Not a chance, Aegis,” Varric said.

“That going to be my new name now?” Maxwell asked as he slowly stretched his right leg out in front of him.

“Yeah, probably. You have a problem with it?” the Dwarf responded and Maxwell shook his head before he looked back up at the unfamiliar stars.

“So…can’t sleep?” Varric repeated.

“No,” Maxwell responded, trying to trace the constellations, but getting lost in the unfamiliar pinpricks of light.

“The day could still go to the Void?” Varric asked.

“Oh, very much so. And then burn there for all eternity,” Maxwell answered.

He stared at the stars, feeling small and lost. None of it was what he grew up with, none of it what he shared with Fortunata on the occasions she had been allowed to visit him in the Ostwick Tower.

Sometimes, it was good to be related to the Trevelyan family.

“Want to talk about it?” Varric offered.

“No,” Maxwell responded and carefully brought his leg back, crossing it over his thigh to, gently, prod at it through the boot leather.

Varric let out a sigh and Maxwell looked over at him. “It’s not easy, losing family…being responsible for their deaths. And it helps if you…well, at least talk about _them_ ,” Varric said and Maxwell stared at him before he looked back at the flickering green light.

“I…” Maxwell whispered and Varric placed his hand on Maxwell’s shoulder, squeezing.

“If not to me, maybe someone else. You can’t keep it bottled up, Aegis. It doesn’t work like that and you’ll only hurt yourself in the long run,” Varric said and Maxwell stared at Varric before he dropped his gaze to his boot.

Varric squeezed his shoulder again, but did not let his hand drop or pull away, and Maxwell swallowed harshly. “Flynn was my older brother…” he began, his voice pitched just loud enough for Varric to hear as he began to talk about the family he knew he had lost at the Templar Encampment.


	3. The Threat Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!**  
>  \- Maxwell runs into one of his rapists and she touches him in a non-consensual [after the Templar vs Mage vs Cullen (Cullen wins!) though he notices her before Cullen intervenes in the crowd of Templars/Templar Supporters and then decides to bottle up his feelings about it to deal with at a later date when he's not in public]

* * *

 

Maxwell watched as Cassandra hacked at a practice dummy and, even though he could hear a, very loud, argument coming from inside of Haven, he turned toward Cassandra to speak with her instead.

Out here in the open, where he would have a good excuse to retreat, would be the best time to speak with her. “I think you need practice dummies made of sturdier stuff,” Maxwell stated.

“That would be nice,” Cassandra growled.

“Like maybe iron,” he continued and she stepped away from the practice dummies.

“Did I do the right thing?” she asked as she turned back to the practice dummy.

“What I have set in motion here could destroy _everything_ I have revered my whole life. One day they may write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool, and they may be right,” she continued, hacking away at the practice dummy as she did so.

Maxwell moved, subtly, just out of arms reach, already shifting to use a Fade Step if she turned on him with that sword, and watched her. “What does your faith tell you?” Maxwell asked, hoping to guide her away from…anger.

Anger usually meant he ended up with new injuries to tend and he didn’t have a convenient excuse all the way out here to explain them away.

“I believe you are innocent. I believe more is going on here we can see. And I believe no one else cares to do anything about. They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot. But is this the Maker’s Will? I can only guess,” Cassandra stated and Maxwell gave a small nod.

“Then what happens now?”

“Now, we deal with the Chantry’s panic over you before they do even more harm. Then we close the Breach. We are the only ones who can. After that, we find out who is responsible for this chaos and we end them. And if there are consequences to be paid for what I have done, I pay them. I only pray the price is not too high,” Cassandra panted out as she rolled her shoulders, most likely loosening her muscles before continuing to chop at the practice dummy.

Maybe he really _should_ look into getting her iron practice dummies.

But only if she was using a practice sword, not the one that went out into the field with her.

He’d look into it.

“Depends upon what you’ll be paying the price _for_ , really,” Maxwell answered and gave a minor shrug when she looked over at him.

“Overall, I don’t really think you had much of a choice, considering the circumstances,” he continued.

“Didn’t I?” Cassandra asked as she went back to slashing at the practice dummy.

“My trainers always said, ‘Cassandra, you are too brash. You must think before you act!’,” she snarled and dropped her sword, it clattering at her feet as she continued. “I see what must be done and I do it! I don’t see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail!”

“But I misjudged you in the beginning did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again,” she finished, staring at him and Maxwell shifted slightly on his feet.

“Well, had I been in your shoes, I would have done the same. The sole survivor of something that killed, literally, everyone in the vicinity? I would have locked me up as well,” he responded and Cassandra shook her head a little.

“I was determined to have someone answer for what happened. Anyone,” Cassandra argued and she walked away before she paused and turned back to Maxwell.

“I’m curious, do you even believe in the Maker?” she asked.

Maxwell avoided answering this question, as often as he could. He…couldn’t believe in the Maker. He had to put his faith in…something else.

In the hope of a better tomorrow, specifically.

That tomorrow would be better, because if he had put his faith in the _Maker_ , the one who abandoned them not once, but _twice_ , he would have gone insane. Thrown himself off the top of the tower.

“I can’t,” Maxwell responded.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I _have_ to believe that we were put on this path for a reason, even if you do not. Now it simply remains to see where it leads us,” Cassandra answered as she turned away, leaning down to pick her sword up and went back to swinging at the practice dummy.

Maxwell left her to it.

* * *

Maxwell stared at the crowd before the Chantry and sighed heavily. He could hear the arguing from the gate, but had hoped it was a fight in the tavern. Well, when he was at the gate he had hoped it was from the tavern, and then he had paused to speak with Varric (who had smirked knowingly at him) and Solas (who had shook his head slightly, but indulged Maxwell all the same), so that hope had already been dashed.

He was tempted to turn away and speak with Leliana, but that would be irresponsible. Then again, throwing yet _another_ Mage into the mix mi-…

His feet halted, rooted in place as he saw one of the Templars from the Ostwick Circle standing there. One of the ones who had…

Maxwell swallowed harshly and pushed forward, just as it exploded. “Your kind killed the Most Holy!” one of the Templars shouted, pointing at the Mage side.

Younger than the Mage (one of the _Loyalists_ , and oh, how Maxwell wanted to shake them and snarl, but always refrained; they were the ones who walked through the Circle, untouched, unseeing, _uncaring_ , and were, in the end, just as bad as the Templars for turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to the tragedies that unfolded around them and doing _nothing_ to even help in the aftermath of those tragedies) he was shouting at, a young blonde contrasted against a tanned balding older Mage, who was most likely a Senior Enchanter (though not necessarily).

Throwing another Mage into this was going to end so poorly.

“Lies! Your kind let her die!” the Mage shouted back and Maxwell resisted the urge to slam his forehead into this palm.

The Templar was going for his sword, however, and Maxwell felt the magic for a Barrier leap to his fingers as the Templar snarled, “Watch your mouth _Mage_!”

Before anyone had time to act, however, Commander Cullen launched himself between them. “Enough!” he shouted, keeping the Templar from drawing his sword and the Mage from attacking the Templar.

“Knight-Captain!” the Templar exclaimed.

“That is not my title anymore!” Cullen snapped, but he was staring at the Mage as if…

Well, an _actual_ good Templar, maybe, or one who had realized the Order was not as dirt-free as it liked to pretend to be.

“We are not Templars any longer! We are all part of the Inquisition!” Cullen snapped, keeping between the two factions.

A wise choice. This was like straw near a fire spell; one wrong move and _everything_ was going to go up in flames.

“And what does that mean, exactly?” Roderick demanded, pushing through the people and Maxwell resisted the urge to heave a sigh.

Right, of course. The Chancellor was back.

Why not?

“Back already Chancellor? Haven’t you already done enough?” Cullen demanded, sounding as disgusted as Maxwell felt.

Well, not entirely unexpected.

“I am curious Commander as to how this Inquisition and _its_ Herald is going to restore order as promised,” Roderick stated and Cullen made a disgusted face that almost beat out one of Cassandra’s disgusted faces (Varric could apparently cause some of the most interesting twists to the human face where it concerned Cassandra).

“Of course you are,” Cullen stated and then focused on the people who had congregated in front of the Chantry.

“Back to your duties, all of you!” Cullen ordered and Maxwell stepped forward, sending most scattering, but the Templar, Ser Brenna Aymard, walked past him pointedly brushing her gauntleted hand across his hip as she did so before continuing on her way as if she had done nothing.

For a few seconds, Maxwell just stood there, gritting his teeth and then he walked forward to speak with Cullen.

* * *

“Lady Josephine, are you sending out Notices of Death to the families for those lost at the Conclave?” Maxwell questioned as he stepped into her office.

The War Table could wait a little longer.

“Ah, yes. I was…just about to get to the Trevelyan family actually. I am…sorry for your losses,” Josephine offered.

“Please don’t give me names. Though…a copy, if you would? For when I am not needing to go straight to Val Royeaux, though…have you sent it yet?” Maxwell answered and she shook her head.

“I wished to ask you about your parents, actually,” Josephine responded.

“Already? That was fast,” Maxwell teased before he could help it and then shook his head.

“Sorry. What did you wish to ask?” he responded.

“I was wanting to know if we could reach out to your parents for their support of the Inquisition,” Josephine answered, looking slightly bewildered over Maxwell’s quip.

No flirting with Josephine.

Even if she only reminded him of herself and herself was…very lovely.

Maxwell smiled at her and nodded a little. “They are quite devout. I am sure you could put just the right spin on this that you would have to _beg them_ to stop giving you money,” he answered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she grumbled and Maxwell smiled a little more before it dropped from his face as he remembered why he had come in here.

“On second thought…is the name Fortunata Elaine Trevelyan on that list?” he questioned and Josephine carefully shifted her papers to look down the list.

“Ah, no, she is not. Why? Was she at the Conclave?” Josephine questioned.

“No, she wasn’t but her name should have been on the list. She was supposed to be there to represent the Trevelyan Family interests,” Maxwell answered and Josephine sighed.

“You would need to ask Leliana then. She only gave me a copy of the lists of people who were to attend the Conclave and if she removed a name, I would not know,” Josephine answered and Maxwell felt his skin _freeze_.

“I shall do that, Lady Josephine. Thank you for your time,” Maxwell responded and he was back out of her office and heading back outside, straight for Sister Leliana’s tent.

* * *

“I had expected you sooner,” Leliana stated when Maxwell stepped into the shadow offered by her tent and he had to resist the urge to turn on his heel and go to the War Room instead.

Leliana reminded him too much of the Knight-Captain, sometimes. Not that she was _like_ the Knight-Captain (though he wasn’t sure if that was just him trying to keep calm or if it was a truth), but sometimes, a piece of her would shine through and Maxwell would feel himself automatically loosen, his shoulders drop, try to be small. Keep small, smile and say yes and obey without question.

He fought against it every time he stood near her and that little piece began to shift his body language, but not his words. One battle at a time, like stepping towards the big picture.

“You could have just asked for me. I am quite accommodating,” he responded and wished he could bite off his own tongue after that.

He couldn’t stop automatic responses that would probably just…

“A letter came to the Inquisition while you were in the Hinterlands, from Lady Fortunata Elaine Trevelyan, sixth child of Bann Darius Harlow Trevelyan, and only daughter. It was a request for information about Enchanter Maxwell Alcides Trevelyan of the Ostwick Circle,” Leliana stated and Maxwell stared at her feeling his chest constrict as his heart beat against his ribs like a bird against the bars of a cage.

“I was surprised to get this letter for two reasons. The first being, of course, that I had thought her dead. She was supposed to be at the Conclave to look out for the family interest. The second was that it was sealed with the seal of an Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle, and not her personal seal, which all children of the Trevelyan family gain upon their majority. So I asked Charter the contents of your bag. They were more than happy to provide an answer; the signet ring _you_ carry is that of Lady Fortunata Elaine Trevelyan, _not_ one an Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle carry, as I had assumed,” Leliana continued.

“So, I am curious as to how you came to be at the Conclave when you were never meant to be there, while she was supposed to be there, yet was not,” Leliana continued.

“I took her place. I didn’t want her at the Conclave; that volatile of a place, filled with people who had more training than her, where she wouldn’t be able to defend herself entirely beyond _dodging_ if things boiled over. And I couldn’t just go with her. The youngest child of a Marcher noble flaking out wouldn’t be something _unexpected_. The youngest child of a Marcher noble showing up with an Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle at her elbow? A statement. So I took her place,” Maxwell answered, trying to calm down, but he was failing, and his skin was becoming _frozen_ under his clothes and numb where it was exposed to the air.

“Why exchange rings?” she asked.

“I was going to send letters Fortunata wrote before I went to the Conclave, including notes I would have paid a scribe to copy, and to do that I needed to use her seal or they would never to get to Father in a timely manner. I gave her mine because she would need to look like she still had her ring,” Maxwell responded quietly.

“But where is she?” she asked.

“Somewhere safe, or as safe as anyplace can be when there is a giant hole in the sky and rogue Templars are marching around, combing every nook and cranny for mages to kill,” he answered and Leliana crossed her arms as she stared at him.

“You won’t tell me?” she asked and Maxwell shook his head.

“What are you going to do about her?” he asked, crossing his arms in hope of hiding how much he was shaking from Leliana.

“Nothing,” Leliana answered and Maxwell felt as if his insides were becoming stone.

“Nothing?” Maxwell asked dully.

“Your conscience binds you to the Inquisition far better than any person, so what would be the point? Especially since, if we were to drag her here, it would only earn your hatred. Best to leave her be and only send word to your parents if they write to us asking about her health, and only then that she lives. And then I’ll have Charter conveniently lose all the other correspondence after reading over it to make sure it doesn’t mention anything about Rifts,” Leliana responded and then turned back to her maps.

Maxwell turned on his left heel and walked back into the Chantry, refusing to show her how much this conversation had rattled him.

* * *

Maxwell clenched his left hand into a fist, then relaxed.

They needed allies and while Sera (the Elf who hated the fact she was born an Elf, which made Maxwell think of the Mages who hated the fact they were born as Mages) was not going to bring along the allies that they thought about, Maxwell liked her. He had also brought _the leader of the last Loyal Mages_.

Maxwell mentally sneered at that.

 _Loyalists_. Who turned blind eyes and deaf ears and…

Maxwell let out a long, low, sigh and gave himself a shake.

He had a Captain of a mercenary group to meet up with on the Storm Coast, a Warden to find (and to question) in the Hinterlands, and Grand Enchanter Fiona to meet with.

He gave himself a shake, sighed, and walked back to his cabin.

He would get dinner…later.

Just…later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO BECAUSE I A BIT OF AN IDIOT (well, that'll get someone yelling at me)
> 
> (I'm a cute bit of an idiot though)
> 
> BUT
> 
> I keep forgetting to thank the WaywardDesertKnight who is helping me with this. Mostly, they just read over it for me really quickly to help with tenses and grammar stuff that I miss, because I trust them.
> 
> SO THANK YOU!!!


	4. In Hushed Whispers Part 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was supposed to be one huge chapter. However, the end of this chapter feels like an end to the chapter and the Quest itself is cut into two parts, so it works.
> 
> Warnings in the Chapter Notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings for this Chapter:**  
>  \- Victim Blaming  
> \- Blatant Mention of Child Death  
> \- Mention of rape  
> \- Mention of abuse  
> \- Maxwell having a slight break down when he finds the Tranquil skulls in Redcliffe

* * *

 

Maxwell stared at the note he was reading and crumpled it in his fist. “Aegis?” Varric questioned softly and Maxwell felt his nose crinkle slightly.

“There are…harriers here,” Maxwell stated.

“Harriers?” Cassandra asked as Maxwell stood up and rolled his shoulders slightly.

“They’re people who pretend to be bandits to scare people away from an area. They kill a lot of innocent people for no reason that is worth that much death, and they’ve been watching the Inquisition. So far, they’ve left us alone because we’re not getting in their way, but that’s going to change soon,” Maxwell answered.

“So the Scout at the archway was correct. These are not bandits,” Solas stated and Maxwell shook his head.

“No, they are not. This mentions an outpost they’ve taken over, but I think there are more down the East Road. This is too close to refuges for us to head to Redcliffe and come back. I don’t want them to decide that the Inquisition is a problem they need to deal with personally while we are dealing with the mages,” Maxwell stated as he burned the letter before he began to do his usual burning of the bodies.

He then stood and began to head up and within heartbeats there was a Dalish mage fighting off a demon.

Oh, and Solas saying something about a damn artifact.

* * *

“So, think she’s lying?” Varric asked lowly as the Dalish mage, Mihris, made snotty remarks at Solas.

“Oh, I know she is,” Maxwell answered lowly and waved his hand, recreating the archway and pretending not to hear how Solas was snapping back.

Yeah, if he was ever going to have to meet Dalish, Sera and Solas would _not_ be coming.

Maxwell let out a heavy sigh and covered his face.

How _wonderful_.

More demons.

* * *

“I’d almost prefer the demons at this point,” Maxwell stated as he burned the last of the bandits.

His nose twitched slightly at the smell and he frowned. There was a burning smell that wasn’t from him and he looked up.

They had held here, hadn’t gone further back, and hadn’t put themselves through the cave he could see from here. It would have been wise, if not fighting mages. Bottle-neck them, force them into a narrow space, take them out quickly. “How far away is the nearest camp?” Maxwell asked.

“Near the Crossroads. It isn’t far,” Cassandra answered.

“Varric, how fast can you run?” Maxwell asked.

“Not a comforting question Aegis,” Varric responded.

“Not a comforting question to ask,” Maxwell reassured.

“Not fast. I’m not as young as I used to be,” Varric stated.

“Solas how about you?” Maxwell asked.

“I’m quick on my feet when I need to be, Herald,” Solas answered and Maxwell muttered a curse.

“Right, Varric, Cassandra, ride back to the Crossroads and get…fighter focused scouts. Solas, if I tell you to run, start doing so to the Crossroads,” Maxwell answered.

“Aegis, what is it?” Varric asked.

“I can smell burning that I _didn’t_ cause and I don’t like the fact that these bandits didn’t retreat into the cave like structure there. It would have been a good strategy, even with two mages in the party. We could only hit so much, it would draw our warrior in, but they _didn’t_ , which means there’s something through there that they wanted to avoid,” Maxwell explained.

“Please tell me you are joking,” Cassandra stated.

“I’m not. Ride back fast, get back faster and hopefully I won’t have pissed off whatever is through there,” Maxwell responded as he eyed the tunnel, not cave.

Even a better thing to pull back through but they had held at the entrance. Cassandra probably would have followed them in, so what was through there?

“Herald, this is not…” Cassandra argued.

“Cassandra, _go_!” Maxwell ordered in his Enchanter Voice.

A stillness overtook the camp and Cassandra nodded before she walked away, Varric at her heels.

“She is right you know,” Solas stated.

“Yes, but she can’t cast a Barrier on herself and it is something _big_ , which it probably is, I don’t want a dead Seeker,” Maxwell explained.

“But you can smell it too, can’t you?” he added as he glanced over at the other mage.

“Yes,” Solas agreed and Maxwell grinned before he put up a Barrier and walked down the path.

* * *

Maxwell looked up from where he was seated on the bench as Cassandra threw herself off the back of her own horse, one she had from her days as a Seeker, and stormed up to him. “What is wrong?” she demanded.

“High Dragon,” Maxwell answered with a choked off laughed, covering his face with his hand.

“A fucking _High Dragon_ ,” he repeated and began to laugh, hunched over on himself.

Because of course it was a High Dragon.

Of course.

* * *

They decide to leave the High Dragon be for now. If she started flying over their heads or terrorizing the people, they would go deal with her, though they may have to deal with her before then.

The suggestion made Maxwell twitch in annoyance; preemptive striking wouldn’t end well for anyone, but in this case it was probably for the best. High Dragons got territorial and eventually she would not allow them to be as close as they were, she’d start hunting and…

Maxwell sighed and felt the Fereldan Forder still under him.

The road to Redcliffe, while not long, was putting too much of a strain on his ankle.

He had done enough today, but there was still more to do, and Solas, on another Fereldan Forder, came to a stop as well. Varric has stopped out of kick range and Cassandra does the same. “Herald?” she questioned, even as Maxwell rubbed his temples with one hand, the gelding shifting under him slightly.

“I’m fine. Just…tired. It has been a long day. And after Redcliffe, I want to ride down to where the bandits are out hiding and then get to the Storm Coast. I’m not sure how long the Bull’s Chargers are going to be on the Coast, so I am concerned we’ll miss windows of opportunity,” Maxwell explained and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“But Redcliffe, bandits, Storm Coast,” he said and gently gathered up the reins once more, surprised the horse had stood still.

He scratched the horse’s neck, deciding that he would have to name the gelding soon and with a click of his tongue and a gentle squeeze that had his heels gentle pushing against the horse’s sides, the horse began to move once more.

* * *

“Something is very wrong here,” Maxwell stated, staring at where one of the time manipulation sections of the Rift had been.

He had felt that something was wrong since walking toward the village.

Something akin to dread had settled in his stomach like a stone in a lake upon seeing the Rift and it had only grown when he had seen the way the Rift itself had _twisted_ time around itself. Solas’s comments on the nature of the Rift hadn’t helped, either.

“Be on your guard,” Maxwell warned, though he knew he didn’t truly need to say it.

They were all carrying enough experiences to be that way even in safety.

* * *

“I have to stop thinking, ‘How could this possibly get worse?’ and just accept that anything to do with a giant hole in the sky is just going to continue to get worse, every single second of every single day,” Maxwell muttered as he sat on the ruined rubble of what had once been, part of, a windmill.

“You really thought that?” Varric questioned.

“No, not really, but I was hoping this would be easier option, but no, it is not. I am just curious how it came to be. Did Grand Enchanter Fiona sneak out to get to us at Orlais or is something worse going on?” Maxwell responded.

“We won’t know till we head to the tavern,” Cassandra stated, even as Solas seemed to join Maxwell in the frowning at the ground.

“I would really like to know the answer _before_ I go to the tavern, Cassandra, because desperate people do desperate things, and I would like to know which act of desperation happened first,” Maxwell responded calmly before he heaved another sigh.

“Since our meeting in the Tavern may end in us getting kicked out of Redcliffe, let’s look around first. Maybe we’ll pick up some answers by eavesdropping and breaking into locked buildings,” Maxwell continued.

“Breaking into locked buildings Aegis?” Varric questioned.

“Always a good idea to see what people are hiding behind locked doors. And maybe we can find that healer that Corporal Vale was asking about,” Maxwell answered.

“Almost feels like Kirkwall,” Varric stated.

“Let’s hope nothing explodes,” Maxwell countered and stood up with a low sigh.

“Aww, where’s your warm and jovial spirit of comradery Aegis?” Varric questioned and Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

“Buried somewhere deep within my soul,” Maxwell stated as he began to walk down the hill to the village proper.

* * *

Maxwell had sent the healer to the Crossroads, after assisting her with herbs, suddenly thankful that he did, in fact, just harvest herbs whenever he saw them.

It meant he could assist her quickly and without having to worry about not being able to get back into Redcliffe if he got kicked out.

He had talked to an elderly, elven, man and, upon seeing that the shrine to his wife was close to the bandit’s location on the map he carried, agreed to clean the shrine and leave flowers in the man’s stead. He was tempted to go and deal with the smuggler (well…hire the smuggler), though he knew he should go to the Tavern now.

He had kept Fiona waiting long enough.

* * *

There was something _very_ wrong in Redcliffe.

(Former) Grand Enchanter Fiona swore she had not been to Orlais, was obviously confused when pressed, and then there was the fact that Magister Alexius had just _shown up_ in time to save them from Templars.

Then there was the whole conversation with Magister Alexius, which was…interesting. And very terrifying.

He had been focused on the fact that Maxwell had survived the Breach with an eerie intensity that made Maxwell want to back away. Or run for his life.

They had gone back and forth, each keeping their cards to their chest and hedging around what they really wanted to know. There was something about the whole affair that just made Maxwell’s shoulders itch, like they did right before there was an upheaval in the Templar ranks at the Ostwick Circle.

Then there was Felix.

Maxwell wasn’t sure what to think about the younger man, who was probably a handful of years younger than Maxwell himself (maybe), but seemed older. Drawn and worn in a way that spoke of an illness that clung to him no matter the magic used on him.

There was something about Felix that had Maxwell wanting to reach out, call on Hope, and soothe Felix, tell him it would all be okay in the end, like he used to do with the smaller apprentices, when he was an apprentice.

When he saw Felix wavering on his feet, he had stood without hesitation. He hadn’t expected the man to just _fall_ on him, however, and he definitely hadn’t been expecting the note that was tucked into his hand.

 _Come to the Chantry, you’re in danger_.

Well…he could go and be a good Andrastian boy and do just that.

“It could be a trap,” Varric stated.

“I’m expecting it to be at this point,” Maxwell answered and was about to head toward the Tavern entrance when a familiar voice got his attention.

“Enchanter Trevelyan?” she questioned and Maxwell turned around, only to find himself facing Mage Linnea.

He walked up the two steps so he was on even footing, more or less. “Mage Linnea,” he responded and she scoffed slightly.

“I remember you, from Ostwick,” Linnea stated and Maxwell stared at her, keeping his face neutral.

He remembered her as well. Her sharp frown whenever he entered a room she was in, the way she turned away from him instead of speaking with him.

The way she treated the Tranquil like they were lesser.

“I had gathered,” he responded, wondering what she did remember of him and she sneered at him.

“I remember how you turned your back on your fellow mages and instead spent your time amongst the Templars. Eventually you even turned one of the few mages who was foolish enough to spend time with you Tranquil,” she responded and Maxwell is sure that if she had stabbed him with her staff, left the blade in, and _backhanded_ him off the end of her blade, it would have been less painful.

“And I remember how you treated the Tranquil like they were sub-human and once knocked a Tranquil down the stairs in a rush to get somewhere and the only remark you made about the incident was annoyance over the fact that blood got on your work,” Maxwell responded flatly and turned away from her.

He stopped to speak with a Tranquil by the name of Clemence, though he only learned either of those facts after speaking with the man, and was quick to ensure he would be safely tucked away in the Inquisition, hopefully.

Clemence had been helpful in sorting out the timeline, though what he said and what Fiona had said…

Something was _very_ wrong and Maxwell desperately wanted to reach out and haul it around and make it _right_ , but he couldn’t do that until he learned what was wrong in the first place.

Once outside the Tavern, and a scout had left to escort Clemence, with the healer, up to the Crossroads, he was left with only his companions.

“ _Enchanter_?” Cassandra asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Maxwell answered as he headed down the steps, and turned right toward the Chantry.

* * *

Maxwell had been expecting many things upon entering the Chantry.

Being ambushed, having his throat slit, Felix, were among the top three.

He hadn’t been expecting to watch a handsome mage _beat two shades to death_ with his staff.

Idly, Maxwell notes that the other mage probably ran out of mana, which meant he had been holding them here in the Chantry, to keep them from getting to the civilians, without knowing when, let alone if, anyone was going to be coming to aid him.

“Good, you’re finally here! Now, help me close this, will you?” he asked in a voice far too noble to be a commoner putting on airs and Maxwell almost says something embarrassing.

He never thought he would want to thank a demon for timing, but he’s thinking about it when a Terror Demon appears between him and the mage who _beat two shades to death_.

Oh, Fade preserve them, Maxwell has a crush on the unknown Mage.

* * *

The mark on Maxwell’s hand ached after closing the rift in the Chantry, and the mysterious mage was already speaking.

They had just finished fighting demons not even a few breaths ago.

Did the man’s mind ever stop rushing?

(Maxwell pointedly stopped that train of thought. It was bad enough he was starting to get a crush after _one brief moment_ , it wouldn’t do to start getting…fond. That never worked out well for him.)

“Fascinating! How does that work exactly?” the man asked and Maxwell gave a small shrug, trying to subtly shake his hand out.

The mysterious mage laughed. “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes!” he stated.

“Who are you?” Maxwell asked, because he really had been expecting Felix…with an ambush.

Truly, he was expecting to have assassins dropping down on him at any moment. Blade across the throat and boom; Thedas lost forever.

“Ah, getting ahead of myself again I see,” the man stated and he gave a little bow.

Not disrespectful, just not the full bow Maxwell was used to mages using when speaking to someone else. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?” Dorian greeted.

“Another Tevinter. Be cautious with this one,” Cassandra warned.

“Such suspicious friends you have,” Dorian said, a smile on his face, and then he’s somber, staring at Maxwell.

Well, more somber. He’s still smiling and Maxwell thinks it is a mask. A good mask, but a mask all the same.

“Magister Alexius was my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable, as I am sure you can imagine,” Dorian stated and Maxwell stared at him, then closed his eyes, feeling his lips move as he tried to remember the hierarchy of Tevinter.

He hadn’t been tested on it in over 20 years, so he was having a bit of trouble remembering. “Are you having an attack?” Dorian asked.

“No, just…I haven’t had family lessons in 20 years, so I’m trying to remember the correct word for ‘Mage who is not a Magister’ in Tevinter. It doesn’t help that I _think_ there are two words,” Maxwell answered.

“You mean there is actually someone down here in the rustic South that knows the difference between Magister and mage from Tevinter? I might just faint from shock,” Dorian remarked and Maxwell nodded a bit, before he glanced at Dorian.

“Please don’t. I don’t think I could catch a second Tevinter today,” Maxwell responded and ah, there, the tiniest tell in the corner of his eye.

“Told you to eat lunch, Aegis,” Varric stated and Maxwell hummed a little.

“Though, speaking of…I was expecting Felix to be here,” Maxwell stated.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure he’s on his way. He was supposed to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father,” Dorian explained.

“Is Felix all right? Magister Alexius couldn’t jump to his side fast enough when he pretended to be faint,” Maxwell asked.

“He’s had some lingering illness for months. Felix is an only child and Alexius is being a mother-hen most likely,” Dorian stated and Maxwell decided if he was lying, he could let it go.

Felix’s illness was not something Maxwell could help with. He was not a Spirit Healer (and the only decent one he knew was in the apostate village he founded, dealing with…issues) and wouldn’t know the first way to go around helping Felix.

“Were you the one who sent the note?” Maxwell inquired.

“I am. Someone had to warn you, after all,” Dorian stated somberly and Maxwell gave a small nod.

“Look, you must know there’s danger. That must be obvious, even without the note,” Dorian pressed and Maxwell gave a small nod.

“Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the Mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself,” he continued.

Maxwell sighed and rubbed his right hand over his face, ignoring the way it dipped into his scars. He frowned and stared at Dorian. “He arranged it so he could arrive here after the Divine died?” Maxwell asked.

“You catch on quick,” Dorian stated, even as Solas made a comment about how it would be impressive, if true.

“The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. Soon there will be more like it and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe,” Dorian continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable and it is unraveling the world,” Dorian stated and Maxwell frowned, before he sighed, rubbing his upper arm.

Maxwell believed Dorian, purely because it was just too insane not to be true. In fact, he would hedge a guess that the reason Dorian was so knowledgeable about it at all was that he was _part_ of discovering the theory.

It would make sense. Alexius had been his mentor after all, and Maxwell looked at Dorian. “You’re asking me to take a lot of this on faith,” Maxwell responded and Dorian frowned.

“I know what I am talking about! I helped develop this magic,” he snapped and Maxwell was a bit surprised his ruse worked.

It seemed Dorian wasn’t used to his validity being questioned and the fastest way to get answers was to question just that. Maxwell was probably going to have fun with that, if Dorian decided to stick around after this whole mess got cleaned up.

“When I was Alexius’ apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is why he is doing it. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?” Dorian continued, his show of temper already cooling and Maxwell wondered if that meant he was like a flint & steel in temper or if he was making himself calm down to appear less threatening.

“He didn’t do it for them,” Felix stated and Maxwell turned sharply, ignoring the way Storm magic began to press against his skin.

“Took you long enough! Is he getting suspicious?” Dorian questioned.

“No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he would be fussing over me all day,” Felix responded and then he focused on Maxwell.

“My father’s joined a cult of Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves the Venatori. And I can tell you one thing; whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you,” Felix stated and Maxwell gave a tired chuckle.

“And here I didn’t get Magister Alexius anything,” Maxwell stated and Varric chuckled while Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

“Get him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those,” Dorian stated and Maxwell smiled at that, before he looked away, the smile disappearing.

He could not grow fond again.

He focused on Felix.

Who he was also growing fond of.

By the Fade, what did they put in the alcohol in Tevinter to make their people so easy to be _fond_ of? Or was it just these two?

Fade preserve him.

“Why are you doing this? Magister Alexius is your father. It would be simpler to just…do nothing,” Maxwell questioned.

“Would you?” Felix responded.

“Would I what?” Maxwell asked.

“Do nothing because it was easier,” he pressed and Maxwell shook his head.

“No,” Maxwell responded simply, refusing to expand on it.

He could have done nothing, was advised to do nothing, and then did something. His love for his father had quickly turned to apathy after that.

“Neither could I. I work against him for the same reason Dorian works against him. I love my father, and I love my country, but this? Cults, time magic? What he’s doing now is _madness_. For his own sake, you _have_ to stop him,” Felix answered.

“It would also be nice if he didn’t rip a hole in time. There is already a hole in the sky,” Dorian remarked and Maxwell nodded before he sighed and gave into the need to pace.

“But _why_? There are _children_ here! Some of the few children to _survive_ this whole Fade-forsaken war! I can count…” Maxwell responded and cut himself off, stopping to breathe pointedly, closing his eyes.

He opened them when all he saw were small broken bodies.

He breathed shakily and looked over at the two Tevinter mages.

“Why would he indenture the Mage Rebellion just to get to me?” Maxwell asked.

“They’re obsessed with you, but I don’t know why. Maybe because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?” Felix offered gently.

“You can close the Rifts. Maybe there is a connection? Or they see you as a threat?” Dorian asked.

“If the Venatori are behind these Rifts or the Breach in the sky, then they’re even worse than I thought,” Felix stated and Maxwell let out a long sigh.

“All of this for me? I’d be flattered if it wasn’t also malicious and probably going to end with them trying to murder me. I like breathing,” Maxwell stated.

“You know you’re his target. Expecting a trap is the first step to turning it to your advantage,” Dorian stated and took a half-step back.

“I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch,” Dorian stated and turned, heading for the back door of the Chantry.

“Oh, and Felix?” Dorian called as he turned on his heel to walk backwards, eyes focused on Felix.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” Dorian finished and turned on his heel, walking out.

“There are worst things than dying, Dorian,” Felix stated as he turned away, heading toward the front entrance of the Chantry.

Maxwell let both of them go.

“You’re just going to take their word on this?” Cassandra demanded in the quiet of the Chantry.

“Yes,” Maxwell answered.

“They are of Tevinter! We cannot trust them!” Cassandra shouted.

“And they know that no one will trust them, so they have no reason to lie,” Maxwell responded calmly.

“That could give them the very buffer they need to lie!” she snarled and Maxwell locked his knees to keep from stepping away from Cassandra, getting out of arm’s reach.

“It is also too unbelievable to be a lie,” Maxwell added.

“Aegis has a point, Seeker. You’ve got to believe your own story and it is easier with just one. Both of them being in on it makes it that much harder to believe, which means it is probably true,” Varric stated.

“I must agree with the Child of the Stone on this one. Their story is too unbelievable to be anything but the truth,” Solas added.

Cassandra let out an angry sound and stormed away from all three of them. “And hey, look on the bright side,” Varric added and Maxwell looked over at him.

“If you’re wrong and they’re going to kill you, at least you won’t be alive for the Seeker to kill,” he finished and Maxwell chuckled lowly.

“You’re right,” he answered and Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

“Well, before we go and deal with the bandits, let’s look around Redcliffe and see if we can learn anything else about these Venatori,” Maxwell stated and headed for the Chantry’s front doors, Cassandra falling in step, muttering threats under her breath.

* * *

Maxwell felt scooped out of all emotions as he stared at the papers before him and then turned to stare at the wall of skulls.

Tranquil skulls.

When he had asked Varric to pick the lock he hadn’t expected this.

When he got close to the skulls, he could hear them whispering, a damnation upon him, those who had done this to them, and those who had noticed it happening and done nothing. He reached out, hand hovering over one of the skulls and then it dropped as he slumped slightly, covering his eyes with the other hand.

He ignored Cassandra berating herself (what did it matter what she _should_ have done, when she did not do it?) or the way Solas expressed grief.

The whispering dragged at his ears and he looked up to stare at the skulls.

He wondered which had become Tranquil to avoid the very thing that ended their life and he _desperately_ wanted to just sit down and cry.

How many had been forced, how many had been raped, how many had known nothing but pain and agony for the entirety of their lives and had their lives ended just as they were losing what was left of themselves?

Did they regain themselves in that moment right before death?

He took a deep, shaky, breath and closed his eyes, still not moving, not leaving the skulls (not wanting to, not wanting to leave what remained of the Tranquil; what did they do to the bodies?), and he felt a hand rest on his elbow.

“Aegis?” Varric called and Maxwell let out a sharp, choked, humorless laugh.

“I can’t even be _surprised_ that this happened!” Maxwell choked out.

“Most don’t see them as people. They are, you know. They’ve been stripped of their emotions, they're very driven, and they need to be reminded to do things like eat, sleep, and go to a healer when injured or they’ll die. They…it is so easy, for people to just ignore that they're disappearing. They’re just _Tranquil_ after all,” Maxwell stated as he opened his eyes.

“Who cares about the Tranquil?” Maxwell asked shakily.

It was a while before Maxwell could be persuaded away from the shed.


	5. In Hushed Whispers Part 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings**  
>  \- Maxwell not dealing with his emotions in a healthy manner  
> \- One of Maxwell’s rapists attempting to rape him again (the whole scene that is part of is marked with [][][] at the top because it should be marked differently for those who want to skip it)  
> \- Emetophobia (same [][][] scene, but toward the end, so you might want to scroll so that linebreak is at the top of the screen so you can’t read it; for those who read [][][] but have emetophobia when Varric starts to focus on Maxwell, skip down if you can’t read it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…this ended up being three parts because it is over 6,000 words and at 18ish pages. I split it into three parts. (I would apologize, but…due to it not just being the Quest, I decided that apologizing is a bit silly?)
> 
> Also eventually I will write Maxwell speaking more with everyone, but only when I can figure out how to alter it more. In case you were wondering, no, nothing Cullen says is made up by me. I literally lifted most of the cut-scene dialogue from an actual play through. (Omitting anything where Maxwell interupts him? Like, a good chunk of the dialogue pre-Dorian entering is basically.....that's the whole scene as you play it)
> 
> Sometimes, I want to slap that man.
> 
> Also, uh....whoops? I thought I had posted this.
> 
> I had not.

* * *

 

Maxwell read over the letter once, twice, and even a third time before he sighed and handed it to Cassandra. "The Carta is involved. I am going to spend maybe a moment pretending to be shocked, and then just figure out how to flush them out of the area. Unless there are any objections," Maxwell stated, even as Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

“I haven’t got any Aegis,” Varric stated as Cassandra gave Maxwell the letter back.

Maybe he should have gone to the Storm Coast first and then come to deal with everything in Redcliffe, though he had honestly thought that Redcliffe would be faster.

“All right. Though at this rate I’ll have to go straight to the Storm Coast instead of stopping off in Haven first and hope we didn’t miss the window with the Bull’s Chargers,” Maxwell stated.

“Why do we even need mercenaries? People will join our cause for noble reasons,” Cassandra grumbled.

“Yes, and they will be green and in desperate need of intensive training. Having people who are experienced and can help with the process, possibly, or be trusted to do more intensive tasks that we cannot trust to green soldiers is something we need. Especially as mercenaries have an honor code. We could trust them to do as we ask, because we have a contract. In addition to that, they reached out to us. The likelihood of them betraying us for a better contract is low, when we put all those factors into work,” Maxwell answered as he folded up the note, tucking it away in his coat before he grabbed the key.

“So you agree there is a chance these _Bull’s Chargers_ will betray us,” Cassandra stated.

“There is also a chance you’ll heat up a lyrium brand and put it to my forehead and make me Tranquil,” Maxwell remarked.

“I would never do that!” Cassandra exclaimed and Maxwell turned to her.

“Wouldn’t you? Say the Mark began to consume me and made my magic wildly unstable. I became a threat to others and myself and I was losing control. How is that lyrium brand looking now Cassandra?” Maxwell responded softly staring at her.

“That…that is different!” she exclaimed.

“But there is still that chance. Right there. Personally, I hope someone will just kill me if that happens, but if the Breach hasn’t been sealed or Rifts still need to be closed, I can’t expect you to do that. So…lyrium brand and a prayer that it doesn’t disrupt the mark in my hand to the point that I can’t use it to seal the Rifts or close the Breach,” Maxwell responded and gave her a small smile that felt flat on his face as she stared at him.

“I am not saying it to be cruel, but to point out that there is a situation in which you _would_ wield a lyrium brand and make me Tranquil. It is a very slight chance, but we do not know the effects of the mark on my hand, nor what the magic itself will do to me over time. It is not my magic and, eventually, my own magic may start to push against it, trying to remove it much like how the body tries to push out a foreign object lodged within it,” Maxwell continued and frowned at the floor.

“It is not highly likely, at this point in time and may only happen if I use the mark too much, but there is a _possibility_ that it will happen. I have to mark it in the back of my head, measure it against what is more likely to happen and try to prevent it from coming to pass. I’ve been doing it for the past 12 years and I will most likely continue to do so till the day I die, weighing chances and what-ifs and possibilities, and with each one, decide how to prevent or prepare for that eventuality of it coming to pass,” he answered and looked up at her.

He gave Cassandra another quick smile and then walked past her, back into the room where they had killed the leader of the mercenary group that had been hired by the Carta. He felt a little guilty over that, but at the same time, they had taken the contract and knew the risks in taking it. “Let us get to where the Carta is holed up and flush them out. They are near where Leliana’s agents noted a Grey Warden, so we may be able to get some answers from him about the disappearance of the rest of the Grey Wardens. With some answers, we may even be able to get their assistance, which will smooth things over for us,” Maxwell stated and turned, heading toward where they had left the horses with a pair of scouts.

“ _Especially_ here in Fereldan. They still revere the Hero of Fereldan, even if she’s been gone for a while. Then again, when someone rises up, stops a Civil War, cleanses a Circle, gets Ozammar to open their gates a bit, and saves the whole country from becoming another Western Approach, they earned that reverence. Though the fact she’s a Circle _Elven_ Mage is often forgotten already, an afterthought, a footnote, in the page of history,” he mused as he walked down the walkway, and paused when he realized that he wasn’t hearing them following and turned, looking back at them.

“Is everything all right?” he inquired lightly, even as Varric took a couple of steps toward him.

“Are you…okay Aegis?” Varric asked.

“No. I saw the skull when we were walking up, heard the whispers, and I am trying not to think about how the Tranquil felt in their last moments. I’ve decided that, until I can get to someplace where I am very alone and not going to be overheard, I won’t really deal with it. Probably not healthy, or right, but the best I can do at the moment. Being a symbol is exhausting,” Maxwell answered.

“Yeah, that too, but I was talking about your talk with Seeker here,” Varric stated.

“Ah. That is…normal, for me at least. I’ve been considering various scenarios. I’ve decided that the only thing I can rely on with certainty is that you three, for reasons of your own, will not abandon this cause, and consequently me, till the Breach is sealed. So, in that aspect, I will endeavor to be worthy of that devotion,” Maxwell answered and then he inclined his head toward the nearest staircase.

“We need to get to Upper Lake Camp and once we have finished with the Carta, we’ll ride up the Imperial Highway, via Redcliffe, to the Storm Coast,” he stated.

“Redcliffe?” Solas questioned.

“I have to tell that man that I took care of his wife’s shrine,” Maxwell answered and continued down the steps, ignoring the way his ankle twinged with pain.

* * *

Warden Blackwall joined the Inquisition, even though he knew nothing about the other Grey Wardens, which was good enough for Maxwell. One might be enough to help them out here in Fereldan.

Maxwell gave him a letter while requesting he join the caravan that was going to include Clemence to Haven and help keep Clemence safe. “And make sure he eats, sleeps, and if he gets injured, make sure he gets it looked at. He might be better about that last one due to the fact he’s an alchemist, but as he’s a Tranquil, he’ll ignore eating and sleeping without meaning to. He doesn’t…register the need for either. It comes from being cut off from the Fade as Tranquil are, and I’ve got varied enough experience with Tranquil to say, for a fact, it is Tranquil as a whole, not just one or two,” Maxwell explained.

“Why are you trusting me with this?” Blackwall asked.

“You just taught farmers how to fight so they could defend themselves, gave them weapons, and stopped an arrow from going through my head. I think I can trust you to keep an eye on Clemence. And…” Maxwell responded and paused before he frowned.

“Keep him safe, please,” Maxwell stated and Blackwall nodded.

“I will do my very best,” Blackwall stated.

“Thank you,” Maxwell answered and Blackwall gave another nod.

* * *

They split from the caravan heading to Haven earlier that day as a smaller group continued on toward the Storm Coast, a part of Maxwell wanting to exchange Blackwall for Cassandra, but deciding against it in the long run.

Cassandra was a Seeker and would be prone to the same inadequacies of the Templar Order.

Instead, they rode on until the sun was halfway to sunset and got off the road (far enough to be hidden, close enough to find the road the next morning) to make camp. The scouts were quick to keep Maxwell, Varric, or Solas from setting up the tents, though the attempt to stop Cassandra was met with a flat look till they relented.

Maxwell just began to take care of his mount, leading the Fereldan Forder slightly away from the other mounts before he tied him to the line once more. He smiled and scratched the gelding’s neck before he began to groom him.

Once the worst of the dust from the road was removed from his coat, Maxwell leaned, hard, against the gelding’s leg, murmuring praise as the horse lifted his hoof so Maxwell could check it.

No rocks, nothing lose or bruised. He chuckled and carefully set the horse’s hoof back on the ground, patting the gelding’s side as he did so. “I really need to name you,” he muttered, even as he walked to the back leg, leaning hard, the horse lifting his hoof immediately.

He caught it and began to check again.

“Enchanter Trevelyan,” Solas greeted and Maxwell gave a soft sigh as he placed the horse’s hoof back on the ground.

“Yes Solas?” Maxwell answered as he turned to face Solas, keeping one hand on the Fereldan Forder’s rump.

“How likely do you think the situation you mentioned to Cassandra is to happen?” Solas asked.

“Oh, I’m positive that, eventually, my magic is going to react to the foreign magic in my hand the same way a body reacts to a foreign object, which is trying to push it out. However, I do think the lyrium brand is…unlikely. Possibly not as slight as I told her, but I was trying not to be cruel. Cassandra is a good person, devoted and faithful. I don’t wish to hurt her, and so I may have not told her the complete truth in regards to the likelihood of her turning me Tranquil,” Maxwell responded quietly.

“Why do you think it will be her? Why not Cullen or one of the other Templars?” Solas asked.

“I am her charge. I may not be called prisoner anymore, but that is what I still am. There is also the fact she would see it as her responsibility to do it, so she would refuse to hand it over to someone else. I would be held by Templars, and it would be done,” Maxwell answered with a small shrug and he pat the gelding’s rump before he walked around to the other side.

He leaned hard against the horse’s leg again, the hoof lifting up and Maxwell did another quick check. “I…see,” Solas answered and Maxwell, gently, put the Forder’s hoof back on the ground.

“Easy there,” he murmured as the gelding snorted and shifted on his hooves, slowly coming to the horse’s head.

He pet the gelding’s neck gently and murmured soothingly, the gelding settling under his hands. “You’re not…angry about it?” Solas questioned.

“Modest in temper, bold in deed,” Maxwell answered and chuckled a little before he looked over at the Elven mage.

“Sorry, Trevelyan family motto. No, I’m not angry about it. More like…resigned. When people only see two solutions, they’ll always chose the solution that is bloodless. Easy. Won’t make them feel _as_ guilty over it. Never mind that--” Maxwell began before he stopped and sighed, closing his eyes briefly, then opened them again.

“It doesn’t matter. She only sees two solutions,” Maxwell concluded as he pet the Forder’s neck.

“What about removing the hand?” Solas responded and Maxwell shrugged.

“It would depend, I believe. What if it spread to the point where not even removing the arm would stop it, such as if it went up to my shoulder? What if…my magic and this magic combined and refused to be parted? What if…lots of what ifs, Solas. Mostly, I just hope that I will have sealed the Breach, and closed all the Rifts, so if I do become a danger…killing me will be the option of choice, not Tranquility. I would really rather not be Tranquil,” Maxwell stated and Solas nodded a little.

“I will remember that,” Solas stated.

“Of that I have no doubt Solas,” Maxwell answered and he went back to the final hoof, leaning again, the Forder lifting it for him.

“Good boy,” he praised and he watched from under the Forder’s belly as Solas walked back to the main encampment before he focused back on the hoof.

He gently set it back down and then began the long process of making sure nothing had stuck to the horse, such as hart ticks or any other bugs or burrs, picking some out of the tail before went back to the gelding’s head.

He pet the gelding’s cheek and smiled. “Temperance,” he stated and the gelding snorted.

“Temp for short,” he added and the Fereldan Forder nickered softly, nosing at Maxwell’s shoulder as he did so.

* * *

The Storm Coast was wet and cold and every breath was thick in his lungs.

The report about the group in the area who, possibly, killed scouts isn’t…

It is tiring.

Maxwell nodded and thanked Scout Harding for her report. “Be careful out there Scout Harding,” he stated and she grinned at him.

“You as well Herald,” she stated and walked away, waving her hand once, three other scouts breaking away to follow after her as she did so.

Maxwell watched them go and then turned, heading down the path to the beach.

The Iron Bull and the Bull’s Chargers first.

They were closer.

* * *

“So…a Qunari spy?” Varric asked.

“I have a Seeker of Truth, an Elven apostate that has no survival instincts who also hates the Dalish, a Dwarf who writes stories, an Elf who doesn’t identify as an Elf, a Loyalist First Enchanter, and a Warden as part of the group I am going to be taking out on various excursions to spread the Inquisition’s power. I feel I need to add ‘Qunari spy’ and ‘Tevinter mage’ to the list and then I’ll _really_ get people’s attention,” Maxwell answered.

“Tevinter mage, huh?” Varric asked slyly.

Maxwell frowned briefly then sighed. “If…he wants,” Maxwell mumbled and Varric’s grin spread.

“Smug is a very ugly look on you,” Maxwell stated.

“That hurts Aegis, that really hurts,” Varric answered and Maxwell walked away from him while Cassandra muttered curses under her breath.

* * *

Maxwell stared at the dead scouts before he knelt down next to the closest one, ignoring how his ankle throbbed. “Is there…something around here that is like an urn?” Maxwell asked and Varric handed him a small silver box that was empty.

“I’ll look around for a couple more,” Varric stated as Maxwell opened the box, removing the tokens in it before he moved the scout.

“Do we have a list?” Maxwell questioned.

“We do. We shall notify their families,” Cassandra stated.

Maxwell hummed a little and pressed his hand to the floor. With a sigh, and a _push_ , there was a sheet of ice below the body. He then looked for a quick identifier so they could get the right box to the right family, if they wanted it. Once he had one (a necklace that he hoped someone could identify, but if not he would be seeing the scouts in his nightmares for a long time, would know the necklace, give a description), he tied it to the top of the lid and began to carefully burn the body, focusing on keeping the flames from touching the ice and then there were the ashes, which he used some spare cloth he had to put it into the silver box.

Slowly, but surely he did the same with the rest, each one memorized and a unique item hung from the lid. He placed each box on the table as he was done and stared down at the top of the table, at the sheets and maps and comments.

“The Blades of Hessarian, that’s what this group is called. We can challenge them, if one of us crafts and wears something called the Mercy’s Crest,” Maxwell stated as he stared at the boxes.

He let out a long sigh and stood up, carefully picking up one of the boxes. “I need deepstalker hide and serpentstone,” Maxwell stated as Cassandra picked up another box and Varric took the last.

“Let’s hurry. I don’t want to get caught in another fight,” Maxwell ordered and he slipped out of the broken down cottage through the break in the wall, already picking up speed as he went.

* * *

“We are loyal to _you_ ,” the Blade of Hessarian in front of Maxwell stated and Maxwell nodded.

What else could he do?

Turn away their help, spurn their traditions?

No, he could not.

So he took their aid, even though it was soaked in the blood of innocents.

He could do nothing else.

* * *

 

Maxwell went straight to Blackwall when he got back to Haven and the Warden greeted him. “He’s all right. I settled him with Adan, the alchemist here, and he seems well. Minaeve took him under her wing as well, so he should be all right with the rest of the Tranquil she keeps an eye on,” Blackwall stated before Maxwell could asked and he chuckled before he nodded a little.

“Thank you, Warden Blackwall,” he said and Blackwall shifted on his feet.

“You’re welcome,” Blackwall answered quietly and looked back up at the Breach.

* * *

[][][]

Maxwell sighed quietly as he headed for his cabin, feeling exhausted. He had checked in with those he needed to check in with, but had pressed for having a War Table council tomorrow after breakfast.

He was exhausted and he was sure they were as well.

He hissed when he tripped over a step and he stumbled a little, the snow getting kicked up around his boots. He sighed and looked around, but it seemed he had avoided being spotted and he walked forward, opening his door.

He stepped inside, tapping his boots against the doorframe. Before he could shut his door, he saw a hand press against his chest and he looked up to the sight of Ser Brenna Aymard in the uniform of an Inquisition soldier, just as she shoved him into the cabin, shutting the door behind her.

She shoved him toward the bed, a sharp grin on her face and he stumbled over his own feet and hit the bed, Ser Brenna Aymard following him quickly, her fingernails digging into his shoulders through the coat as she straddled his lap, knees on the bedspread, feet hooked just below his kneecaps, against his shins. “I was hoping there would be someone worth sleeping with in this place. I’ve been so _tense_ since we parted,” she remarked and Maxwell placed his hands on her waist automatically.

He swallowed sharply as she leaned forward and pressed a mocking kiss to his lips right before he _shoved_.

She let out a startled yelp, his shoulders free of her grip and she was on the floor, Maxwell quickly standing up. “Get out!” he ordered and Ser Brenna Aymard laughed before she stopped when he did not waiver.

“Wait, you’re serious?” she asked and Maxwell nodded.

She slowly got up, eyes growing cold and harsh and Maxwell forced himself to remain standing tall instead of trying to shrink. “What?” she demanded sharply.

“Get out! I don’t…I don’t _have_ to do this anymore!” Maxwell repeated, sounding more in control than he felt.

He should have expected it, should have…

He was knocked out of his thoughts by her _slamming_ into him, forcing him back on the bed, though those time she bore down on him.

His head thunked against the wall, his neck forced into an awkward angle that was going to hurt later, as she straddled his waist, her hands latching onto his wrists. His left wrist was grabbed so she could wrench his arm around so he was forced to keep his left palm against his left collarbone while his right wrist was held against the bed so his right fingers brushed against his neck. His hips were against the edge of the bed, but not enough to slide off the edge, and he twisted, trying to escape, Chain Lightning growing in his right hand.

She laughed at him, darkly amused and he panted beneath her. “How are you going to explain _this_ Herald of Andraste? A _male mage_ using magic on a _defenseless woman_? After all, no one knows I’m still taking Lyrium, and no one would believe you hadn’t asked for this…or that you weren’t taking it for yourself, because you felt _entitled_ ,” she mocked and leaned down, letting her lips rest against his left ear, the spell already dying in his hand.

“Should I practice my tears?” she asked softly, her voice hitching slightly and he closed his eyes turning his face from her and she chuckled.

“Good boy,” she praised as she kissed his cheek with mock affection.

Maxwell flinched slightly and wondered if he asked for a repri-

His thoughts were cut off a second time by his door opening. “Hey Aegis, you…” Varric greeted only to trail off and Maxwell felt Brenna sit back while Maxwell closed his eyes tighter.

“You didn’t tell me you were expecting a guest Maxwell,” Ser Brenna Aymard stated as she leaned on his left arm slightly and he felt his elbow protesting against the pressure, but he didn’t respond.

“Get off of him,” Varric ordered.

“Or what _Dwarf_?” she demanded.

Maxwell’s eyes snapped open when he felt her being _pulled_ off and he moved, twisting his wrist free of her grip as best he could, though he felt his left elbow get wrenched slightly and he sat up, panting for air as Varric, with Charter, the Elf scout Maxwell always walked past on his way to his cabin, forced Ser Brenna Aymard to the ground. Charter quickly took over as Varric let her go, already focusing on Maxwell, who felt like he was freezing and going to shake out of his skin.

When the bucket was put into his lap, he curled over it and emptied out his stomach.

Varric hesitantly, though more firmly when Maxwell didn’t shrug him off, began to rub his back in circles as Maxwell choked through it, tears slipping down his cheeks.

* * *

Maxwell wondered what it said about his life that he was now stuck in a small room, specifically Josephine’s office, with too many people, while trying not to completely close himself off till he could be alone, or just crack like an egg now and spill out across the floor.

The way he was going, he had a feeling he was going to do an egg impression, sitting on a chair near Minaeve’s research table.

Solas knelt down next to him to take care of his left elbow while Varric leaned against Minaeve’s research table, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

“She attacked the Herald!” Leliana snapped, Cullen by the bookshelf while Josephine remained seated at her desk.

“She is of a noble family of Markham! We cannot just kill her Leliana!” Josephine argued while Maxwell clung to an ale mug repurposed for tea, Solas’s healing magic slowly seeping into his elbow.

“She needs to be held accountable for her actions!” Cassandra snarled from where she stood next to Cullen’s bookcase.

“Yes, she needs to be, but we cannot kill the daughter of a Markham noble! _Especially_ not one as well connected as the Aymard Family is!” Josephine stated.

“Why? I highly doubt this family will allow their child to actually face justice!” Leliana retorted and Varric shifted slightly, eyes on the three advisers (and Cassandra).

Maxwell closed his eyes as he breathed the scent of the tea in. “You going to actually drink that Aegis?” Varric asked.

“No,” Maxwell answered.

“All right. We’ll heat it up to keep the smell coming then,” Varric answered and Maxwell hummed as Solas removed his hands.

“What happened?” Solas asked as Maxwell tightened his grip on his mug, his left hand coming to wrap around the mug.

“He twisted his arm trying to get out of a hold. I keep telling you Aegis, it is toward the fingers, not the knuckles,” Varric answered and Maxwell nodded slightly.

“I’ll remember that,” Maxwell stated as Josephine and Leliana continued to argue over what to do to Ser Brenna Aymard.

“Maybe we should let the Herald decide,” Cassandra stated and Maxwell let out a long sigh through his nose.

“Send her to the far reaches of the Inquisition’s reach away from Templar sympathizers or supporters and keep her away from me,” Maxwell answered quickly.

“Another Templar gone rogue,” Commander Cullen (former Templar and _too fucking close_ ) remarked and Maxwell hummed before he inhaled the steam from the tea.

“Yeah, sure,” Varric muttered lowly and Maxwell focused on his tea.

“So we are not going to address the fact she _attacked_ the Herald?” Leliana demanded and Maxwell opened his eyes.

Before the silence could be broken, Maxwell stood up and, very carefully, put his mug of tea down on Minaeve’s research table. “Aegis?” Varric questioned and Maxwell inhaled shakily.

“We will and we won’t. Everyone will know, after she leaves, that she attacked me unprovoked, though where or how or the specific details will be muddled. Through the grace of Andraste, or however Ambassador Montilyet wishes to spin it, I have given her a second chance to honor the Order she was once part of, and she has been chosen to aid others, spin it however everyone wants to make it sound like this is a second chance, not an exile. Because the Ambassador is right; we cannot kill her, or actually punish her for what she did. Her family is too influential; they got a lot of daughters who were more than happy to become mistresses to various influential people throughout Thedas. The right words in the right ears and our Ambassador’s job will become that much harder, and it is already hard enough, Leliana,” Maxwell stated.

“We get a family that is grateful, everyone knows what she did so she’ll be treated accordingly in most cases, and what everyone views as a merciful action is really a punishment,” he continued and he headed toward the door.

“I am now going to my cabin, and going to go to sleep. Good night,” Maxwell stated and he flinched, twisting away from the hand that touched his arm.

His breathing picked up and he stared at the space between the hand (gauntlet, leather palm, white, Cassandra) and his arm.

He was too raw for this. Tomorrow he would not flinch, tomorrow he would only lower his shoulders, duck his head, make himself small, but he had thought he was safe from the Circle and he wasn’t.

He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” Maxwell stated, not looking up and he inhaled shakily, taking another step back to give himself more space.

The air was heavy with silence and Maxwell focused on breathing and not the way he was shaking. “You want some company Aegis? We can play Wicked Grace for a bit,” Varric offered and Maxwell nodded.

“Great, you head to your cabin, I’ll bring the cards and maybe some stew,” Varric stated in an overly cheerful voice and Maxwell nodded before he quickly walked out of Josephine’s office, going straight to his cabin, barely even acknowledging anyone.

* * *

Maxwell doesn’t even get through a whole hand of Wicked Grace with Varric before he cracked like an egg.

Varric gently took the cards from his hands and offered him a shoulder to cry on or to leave, and Maxwell clung to Varric’s hand as he broke down.

For the Tranquil who are dead or dying.

For the people ripped apart by the Mage-Templar war.

For the family lost and the family he killed, the blood on his hands a permanent stain that only he could see.

For the fact he had thought himself finally safe from the Circle only to be reminded he never would be.

Varric doesn’t ask.

Maxwell knew he would never be able to thank him enough for that.

* * *

“We don’t have the manpower to take the castle! Either we find another way in or we give up this nonsense and go get the Templars,” Cullen stated and Maxwell took a step so that he could keep the table and Josephine between him and Cullen.

Over his dead and cold body would they go and get the Templars.

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister! This cannot be allowed to stand,” Cassandra answered.

“We also can’t allow the mages to become slaves to a Tevinter Magister,” Maxwell added as he crossed his arms, the bear hide Enchanter’s Coat that someone had given to him, moving with the action.

He liked the outfit, it was well-tailored to him, even if he would have preferred to have never again worn anything that alluded to his status as ‘Enchanter’.

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It is obviously a trap,” Josephine cut in.

“Well, that makes things a great deal easier for us. It is always nice to know when someone wants me dead,” Maxwell stated and chuckled a little.

“What does he say about me?” he inquired as he tried to move so he wasn’t so trapped between…everyone.

He wished he wasn’t _here_ at the moment, but this was where the War Table was, so here _he_ was.

Why couldn’t they work together in a cohesive manner and just tell him when to go seal up Rifts?

“He is so complimentary we are sure he plans to kill you,” Leliana stated with a grin and Josephine sighed.

“Not this again,” she grumbled.

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Fereldan. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there, you’ll die, and we’ll lose the only means we have of closing the Rifts. I won’t allow it,” Cullen argued and Maxwell nearly stepped back as if Cullen had slapped him.

Briefly, he felt his chest constrict and the room change, the air turning sour in his nose.

Part of him is ill, the idea of having to bend his will to another’s gain permission for the basic necessities of life once more, to just make his own choices, be a person.

“And if we don’t even _try_ to meet Alexius, we lose the Mages _and_ leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!” Leliana argued.

“Even if we _could_ assault the keep, it would be for naught. An “Orlesian” Inquisition’s army marching into Fereldan would provoke a war! Our hands are tied,” Josephine added and Maxwell resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

They didn’t need to _march an army_ in. A keep that size needed other ways in and out, if only so they didn’t clog up the roads to get supplies.

“The Magister-…” Cassandra protested.

“Has out-played us,” Cullen interrupted and Maxwell huffed a sigh.

“I will _not_ leave the Mages to be enslaved by a Magister, by their supposed choice or no! There must be _some_ solution we are over-looking,” Maxwell stated.

“We cannot accept defeat now. There must be something we can do!” Cassandra agreed.

“And there should be! There _has_ to be another way in! Ostwick Circle had an underground docks, for Fade’s sake, and it would have been easier to burn the things considering how many Apprentices tried to swim out through there,” Maxwell argued sharply, not looking at Cullen.

“There’s nothing that I know of that would work,” Cullen stated and Maxwell resisted the urge to glare at Cullen.

He looked at Leliana, who looked back before she looked over at Cullen. “Wait,” she stated and Maxwell leaned back slightly on his heels.

She focused on Maxwell. “There is a secret passageway into the castle, a secret route for the family. It is too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through,” Leliana stated.

“Preferable, and does stop the whole ‘provoking a war’ part of the problem,” Maxwell answered and noticed Leliana’s tiny smirk before it disappeared.

“Too risky. They would be discovered well before they reached the Magister,” Cullen argued and Maxwell didn’t look over at Cullen, though Leliana did.

“That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?” Leliana stated.

“Of course. Keep attention on Trevelyan, while we disable the Magister’s defenses. It’s a gamble, but it might work,” Cullen stated and Maxwell felt his anger build.

So much fo-

Maxwell’s thoughts were cut off by the door opening dramatically behind him and Maxwell turned quickly, Chain Lightning building in his hand, even as Dorian said, “Fortunately, you’ll have help.”

The Scout that was on Dorian’s heels was vaguely familiar to Maxwell, but his voice settled him as Scout Pellane. “This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods, Commander,” he stated as Maxwell carefully dispelled the Chain Lightning so that it didn’t hurt anyone.

There was silence and Maxwell nearly gave Cullen the name before deciding he would rather not speak with the _ex_ -only-when-it-suited-him-Templar any time soon. “Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help, so if you’re going after him, I’m coming along," Dorian stated and Maxwell felt his shoulders relax slightly.

Another Mage around was always a bonus and Maxwell gave a small nod to Dorian, which earned him a cocky smile.

“The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this. We could still go after the Templars, if you would rather not play the bait. It is up to you,” Cullen stated and Maxwell let out a sharp, humorless, laugh that made Dorian step away from him slightly.

“Weren’t you just saying how you wouldn’t _allow me_ to do something earlier _Knight-Captain_?” Maxwell asked sharply, smiling too widely in a way that had gotten him backhanded more than once.

“That is not-” the Commander argued.

“I heard your pretty little words,” Maxwell interrupted, and rolled his shoulders, mentally flicking away his rage.

“This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve played the bait with threat of death, or worse, hanging over my head. And there are so many worse things than death,” Maxwell stated, frowning a little at the war table.

“Yes. You could be having a bad hair day, after all,” Dorian stated and Maxwell chuckled, though it had a ragged edge to it.

“Quite. We’ll go with Leliana’s plan. Ser Pavus,” “Oh _Ser_ Pavus! I like that,” Dorian interrupted, though Maxwell continued without pausing, “Will enter with her agents, while I enter through the front door with…Varric and Blackwall,” Maxwell stated.

“Maxwell!” Cassandra protested and Maxwell managed not to tense or look away from her, though his shoulders did drop.

He was worn out, and tired. He would rather be sleeping, or anything, than being right here.

Why couldn’t they just…work together?

Fade forsake it, they acted like toddlers, not respectable adults!

Cassandra and Cullen were the worst offenders at times, though Leliana was a very close second to the shared firsts.

“Varric was one of those who assisted Hawke, who is known to have sided with the Mages and Blackwall doesn’t seem the type to let his feelings toward Mages, whether they be are good or ill, cloud his judgement, or if he would, not speak of it to me. Since we’re going to be breaking the Mages free and not striking a deal with Magister Alexius, it would be ill-advised to bring those who have a poor opinion of Mages, such as Sera or the Iron Bull, or those associated with the Chantry, such as yourself _Seeker_ Pentaghast, Right Hand of Divine Justinia V. And I cannot bring a third mage to this as I need a Rogue to pick any locks that may need to be picked, and I always seem to run into locked doors at the worst moments, and a Warrior for if we do end up having to bash our way out, though I would, admittedly, prefer to bring the Iron Bull in that case, the dislike of Magic is enough to make me not want to bring him,” Maxwell stated.

“A _third_ Mage?” Cassandra demanded and Maxwell waved a hand to Dorian.

“Ser Pavus is a mage,” Maxwell stated.

“You cannot be serious,” Cullen stated and Maxwell turned, staring straight at Cullen.

“Very,” he stated and focused on Cassandra.

“It is also tactical. _If_ something should happen to me, you have the Fade Expert, the youngest First Enchanter in the history of the Circles, and the one who helped drag it together _here_ instead of trapped with me,” he added.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, shall we?” Dorian questioned.

“Yes, let’s,” Maxwell responded.

“So, when I am going to go walk straight into a trap meant to spell my doom?” Maxwell asked.

“You would have to leave tomorrow morning, quite early,” Josephine responded.

“Excellent. Someone please make sure Ser Pavus has a _warm_ place to stay that won’t get him spit on or otherwise harassed for being from Tevinter, please?” Maxwell stated and Josephine nodded.

“Of course, Ser Trevelyan,” she answered.

“Thank you. Now, if you will excuse me. I am going to go pass out,” Maxwell answered and turned, walking right out of the room, past Scout Pellane, and continued into the chilled morning.

He continued walking until he was in his cabin, with the door locked behind him and he crumpled to the ground, shaking as he curled into a ball on the floor, biting the sleeve of his coat to keep the sobs muffled as he tried to cling to his sanity once more.


	6. In Hushed Whispers Part 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**  
>  \- Leliana decides to somewhat corner Maxwell and ask him about his past (which he’s not happy about and she’s probably a little OOC; I always have trouble with Leliana)  
> -Mention of child death way far down (literally at the top of the final scene)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3!!! Yay! Also, most of this is original dialogue! Yay!!!!
> 
> (I am really looking forward to Getting out of the Hinterlands)
> 
> *snickers*

* * *

 

Maxwell sighed as he stared into the fire and looked over when he felt someone sit next to him. “Varric,” he greeted and looked back at the fire.

“So, the Tevinter mage, the Warden, and the Storyteller?” Varric asked and Maxwell flexed his hand slightly with a tiny chuckle.

“I think I can trust you three to have my back if I end up needing to fight my way out,” he stated and he looked up when he saw movement as Warden Blackwall sat down on a log next to Maxwell’s.

“Of course, Aegis,” Varric responded gently and Maxwell nodded slowly at that before he sighed.

“I think…I will go check on Temperance before I head to bed. Who am I sharing a tent with?” Maxwell responded.

“Me, Aegis,” Varric said and Maxwell nodded before he headed toward the horses, finding Temperance quickly on the line.

He did not hesitate to cross to the gelding, who instantly focused on Maxwell instead of the grass he had been ripping up. “Hello,” he greeted lowly and stilled when he heard movement.

He slightly prepped a spell and turned, right hand up, ready to fire off the spell, only to come face to face with Leliana. “Sister Leliana, apologies,” Maxwell greeted and quickly dropped his hand, noticing how Temperance snorted nervously at the use of magic while the black horse on Maxwell’s left barely twitched.

“Herald,” Leliana greeted quietly and Maxwell hesitated.

“Was there something I could help you with, Sister Leliana?” he asked as he rested his hand on Temperance’s neck, the gelding slowly beginning to calm down.

He was going to have to put the horses through magic desensitivity training, it seemed.

“I wished to ask you about your relations with the Templars,” Leliana stated and Maxwell tensed at her words.

“Is it important?” Maxwell asked.

“Not entirely. I just need to know if I should…make some people disappear, before they cause problems,” Leliana explained and he huffed out a quiet, disbelieving, laugh.

“Is that always your answer? Murder? You can’t kill everyone who crosses you, or anyone close to you,” Maxwell responded and Leliana considered him.

“For someone who has murdered a great deal of people, you seem very against it,” Leliana remarked.

“I was raised in a Circle. Someone ended up dead there, investigations, of a sort, happened, and the Tranquil brand was brandished with great fervor. But our Knight-Commander was a bit more cautious with it than Meredith,” Maxwell responded, biting back his remark about how he wasn’t his mother’s darling either.

That was Henri, and Fortunata as the only daughter.

“The murder you’ve done so far?” Leliana questioned.

“They attacked first. And two of them were family members, so I would hope you wouldn’t bring that up again,” Maxwell answered sharply and Leliana gave an apologetic bow.

“Of course, Herald,” Leliana responded and Maxwell couldn’t stop himself from making a low sound of derision.

“Please don’t call me that. As I told you in Haven, I speak only for myself, not for Andraste and certainly not for the Maker I don’t believe in,” Maxwell responded and he could swear, for a moment, she was smiling at him in amusement before she gave an almost _playful_ bow.

Almost, but not quite.

It was like she was attempting to be playful, but was failing.

“Of course, Herald of Andraste,” Leliana said and then walked away.

“You know, that woman is very frustrating,” Maxwell muttered to Temperance.

The gelding snorted quietly and seemed to nod in agreement before Maxwell carefully detached his horse from the line so he could groom him quickly before heading to bed.

He wouldn’t sleep, but he could at least head to bed.

* * *

Maxwell held his gelding still as part of a block made of their mounts and packhorses to help cover the fact some of the ‘packs’ were people and some of their guards were really assassins in training.

Oh, apologies to Leliana.

 _Scouts_.

“So….what exactly is the plan here Aegis?” Varric asked.

“I go in, be bait, and hope it doesn’t end badly,” Maxwell responded.

“That’s really not a plan Aegis,” Varric said softly.

“It is the only one I have,” Maxwell said as Blackwall stepped up on his other side.

“You think they didn’t notice?” Blackwall asked.

“Warden Blackwall, I am going to make the assumption that they have noticed, but…they’re people who rely on their spells for everything in day to day life, if what I remember about Tevinter is true. That being said, they will notice and assume that their magic will have stopped us. If they’re not complete morons. If they are, or just too desperate, they may just think I’m taking a rest,” Maxwell responded as he tied Temperance to the line.

“We need to head to the castle. My meeting with our friendly local Magister is about to come to pass,” Maxwell stated cheerfully and began to head down the path, away from the windmill before he turned to head toward the castle.

“Aegis, we really need to work on your humor,” Varric said and Maxwell chuckled as he continued to walk along.

* * *

“But don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll protect you,” Dorian stated and Maxwell stared at his fellow mage blankly.

“Why are you looking at me like that? What, do you think I’m all flash and no substance?” Dorian demanded and Maxwell shook his head slightly.

“No, no, that’s not…no. Right, so we’ve been moved through time, and some space, because we’re no longer in the castle hall. We’ll need to find our way back there, I think, or at least find Alexius, or that amulet. I would prefer both, but if it is just the amulet, that will be acceptable,” Maxwell responded as he stepped back and away from Dorian, the water sloshing around his legs.

“What do you mean?” Dorian asked as Maxwell shifted the grip on his staff so he could use it to find the Venatori guards that had fallen below the water.

With all this…red, glowing, lyrium it was hard to see through the water.

“Well, the Alexius of this time might be willing to tell us more than the Alexius of the other time. I would like some answers, if I can gain them. Politely,” Maxwell responded.

“That almost sounded Tevinter of you,” Dorian remarked.

Maxwell merely hummed and otherwise didn’t comment.

He personally thought he sounded _Antivian_ when he said things like that, but he also rarely showed off the fact he _was_ Antivian.

He could speak it, of course, but he usually pretended he couldn't.

No, no, he just let everyone believe that he only spoke a smattering of Tevene, was fluent in Orlesian, and, of course, fluent in Trade Tongue.

His _sister_ on the other hand could speak Orlesian and Antivian fluently, often dropping into either at the drop of a hat, while Trade Tongue often resulted in her having to think carefully before she responded to any question.

Oh, by the Fade, in this world, she was likely dead. Her and her Visitor, and the Clan that befriended them, and—

His staff clanked against metal and he crouched down to pull the soldier out, soaking himself as he did so.

“You know, you could ask for help,” Dorian remarked.

“Pyromancer, right? Inferno base, Necromancer taught, yes?” Maxwell asked and there was silence.

“How did you know that?” Dorian asked.

“Enchanter. _Was_ an Enchanter and I actually earned that rank,” Maxwell responded and bit back the ‘and not on my knees!’ that usually accompanied that statement.

“Inferno based is easy. You went for those spells first, since you were more comfortable with them. In a place filled with water, not the best, so you did switch tactics. But an automatic response. The Necromancer was…a guess,” Maxwell explained as he fished out a key.

He didn’t feel like explaining how he could _feel_ Dorian reaching out to touch the Necromancy branch and pulling back. That his spells were…touched by it. Not in a bad fashion, but he could understand why people confused blood magic with necromancy.

They were quite similar at times.

“A very good guess,” Dorian responded in a voice that reminded Maxwell of the time he discovered one of the apprentices using blood magic in hopes of breaking out.

The quiet begging not to tell anyone behind his words, right before he decided that he just needed to murder Maxwell.

Maxwell looked over at Dorian and gave him a quick smile that Maxwell was sure was lost in the dark. “I won’t tell anyone. But it will come out eventually. If you stay around long enough at any rate. Hopefully they won’t spit at you anymore,” he responded.

“How did you know that?” Dorian asked.

“I was their prisoner before I was their Herald,” Maxwell answered as he fished the key off the guard and headed for the locked door.

“Really?” Dorian asked.

“Yes. There’s ones that still wants me dead for crimes I supposedly committed,” Maxwell answered.

“Did you commit these crimes?”

“Not that I know of. After you Ser Pavus.”

“Why thank you, Enchanter Trevelyan.”

Maxwell twitched slightly at the address. “Please don’t call me that. When the Circles fell, the titles we earned in them meant nothing. It is Maxwell or Trevelyan, please,” he responded as he followed Dorian out of the tiny room.

“Maxwell. Hmm, yes, I’ll have to remember that,” Dorian mused quietly and Maxwell sighed as he took the lead.

* * *

They were being devoured by the Red Lyrium. “Varric, I am…I am _so sorry_ ,” Maxwell whispered.

“If…if I had known, I would _never_ have brought you with me,” he continued quietly and he jumped when Varric lay a hand on Maxwell’s arm, briefly, before he withdrew, the red swirling around Varric.

“Hey, Aegis, it isn’t your fault. You’re here now,” Varric said gently and Maxwell stared at his friend.

“I’m sorry I gave you another friend who feels the need to fix their part of the world, come death or worse,” Maxwell said quietly and Varric startled.

“We need to go,” Dorian said and Maxwell nodded as he turned away from Varric to lead the way out of the dungeon.

* * *

Blackwall was so _angry_.

It almost seemed to thrum out of him and into Maxwell’s _bones_. While, yes, Varric had been just as angry, just as furious, it had simmered under Varric’s compassion.

Blackwall seemed swallowed by his rage.

A part of Maxwell had a feeling it was because Varric was born a Dwarf. That while he wasn’t culturally a Dwarf, he was a Dwarf by biology, and a part of Maxwell, who would never say it to Varric’s face, would swear that it was what allowed Varric to keep himself.

Most of Maxwell wanted to say it was Varric’s strength of will that kept his compassion, even as he drowned in rage.

“Let’s go slaughter some Venatori,” Maxwell said and turned, already knowing that if Blackwall asked, Maxwell would lie.

Sometimes, the truth needed to be buried.

* * *

Maxwell had thought, after watching children be slaughtered, nothing could hurt as much as that.

Watching those he swore to protect die to give him a paltry few minutes was close.

“You move, and we all die!” Dorian shouted as he grabbed onto Maxwell’s elbow to keep him in place, Maxwell not looking away from Varric’s fallen body.

Varric who treated him like a person, not a prisoner or a Herald, or someone to be kept at arm’s length.

Varric who treated him like a _person_ , the first to do so in _years_.

A person.

And then he’s back in the Great Hall, seconds after they had left it and Maxwell turned to face Alexius, who collapsed on the ground.

The man who would burn the world to save his son.

“Please, be gentle with him,” Maxwell said softly to the scouts as they passed him to collect Alexius.

“Yes, Herald of Andraste,” one of the scouts murmured and Maxwell did not twitch.

He didn’t have the time before knights began to march into the hall.


	7. A Favor for the First Enchanter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings**  
>  \- Maxwell being yelled at by a "former" Templar is about as good for his mental health as one would expect, though it doesn't really show in this chapter. Mainly because I cut out him walking through Haven because it felt forced after the final line of this chapter.
> 
> \- Maxwell is traumatized still and that goes through this.
> 
>  **Actual Notes**  
>  After this chapter (and including this one) it gets very Cassandra and Cullen Critical. The reasons for this are the fact I was half-gaslighted regarding them because I just followed Dragon Age blogs that also happened to be very pro-Cullen. I, who never paid much attention to Noodle Boy and often play with the sound off in Origins, and still haven't gotten through Dragon Age 2, aka Dragon Age: City of Chains (as I like to call it because I read it somewhere and I loved it and I can't find the original post anymore), I didn't realize how _creepy_ Cullen was.
> 
> Cassandra mainly because she's like, "I want it to be better, I want it to change, I will make it better," and then......makes everything exactly the same. Like, no? You wanted to change it? Like, fucking change it. Don't just repeat the same mistakes.
> 
> That leads into the change of tags; I decided to remove the characters, omitting the Male Mage Trevelyan tag, since there is no real focus on the other characters and I felt it was a bit of a bait-and-switch. I changed it to 'The Inquisition' to cover all of them, though I may put Dorian back in.

* * *

 

Maxwell sighed quietly as he stared up at the half-broken tower on the road to Redcliffe before he adjusted his staff on his back and then began to climb his way up, the only thing to light his way the sun’s setting sun.

“Aegis, what are you doing?” Varric asked, even as he followed Maxwell up the winding path so he could get to the other side of the falling down tower.

“Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard, mentioned a tome that had been stolen by some bandits. I overheard our mage allies mentioning that one of their own came here and was killed. They blame Templars, I think it was likely the Rift that was here and the demons that killed him, but there is too little proof, either way, to make decisions regarding his death,” Maxwell responded and shook out his right ankle, feeling the way it was swelling from all the movement he had put it through.

“Alright, and?” Varric questioned as he continued to follow Maxwell along, across the slightly crumbling bridge to the other tower.

“Madame Vivienne, for all that we disagree over certain points, is someone I respect. She desires to rebuild the Circles into something more. While I am unsure of where that leaves me, in terms of how I feel about her, I can do this. She needs tomes, tomes of great value, and I can only hope that, if I do this, the Circles will not return to _exactly_ what they were before,” Maxwell responded as he began to limp along before he climbed up onto the tower, calling up some magic so he could look around more clearly.

He moved slowly as he did so, and paused when he found another tile. There was a chest, but it had nothing useful for him. “Hey, Aegis,” Varric called and Maxwell looked over at him.

Varric was holding up a book that it seemed he had found on the table and Maxwell walked over to him, carefully picking it up. He blinked a few times and then gave a small nod. “This is it. Thank you, Varric,” Maxwell responded as he carefully switched out his research jounral on his hip for the tome, thankful they were close in size.

“Weren’t you wearing a different coat earlier Aegis?” Varric asked and Maxwell looked down at his outfit, blinking a few times when he realized that it was the coat he had pulled out and put on while in the future.

“Oh, yes. I changed,” Maxwell responded and Varric chuckled.

“Oh, really Aegis. Never noticed,” Varric teased and Maxwell smiled a little before he carefully began to climb his way back down.

* * *

Maxwell didn’t flinch through sheer practice as the “former” Templar turned on him with a near snarl. “What were you thinking, turning Mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open!” Cullen snapped.

Maxwell bit back his first reaction at Cullen yelling at him, which was to duck his head and apologize.

He then bit back his second reaction, which was an angry retort. Mages were not without oversight, after all, they were just without _Templar_ oversight.

Considering the state of the Circles, the unlawful annulment of the Dairsmuid Circle, and the injustices that came to light, to Thedas, in Kirkwall, Maxwell considered _that_ a vast improvement.

“ _People_ are more willing to help when not choked by chains. And I would prefer that they feel secure with us rather than terrified we’ll kill them if they breathe wrong,” Maxwell responded, keeping his voice level.

Cullen almost seemed to try to expand and Maxwell couldn’t stop his shoulders from dropping, though he managed to keep his head from doing the same. Duck down, apologize, _behave_.

It never worked, except in the way Maxwell had. More abuse, more pain. More ‘yes’ when he—

“And how many innocents will die because of your _leniency_?” Cullen demanded and Maxwell felt his temper flare, even as his stomach twisted as his heart began to pound against his ribs.

“Enough arguing! None of us were there and we cannot afford to second guess our people,” Cassandra cut in.

Maxwell resisted the urge to take a step back, away from Cassandra and Cullen and toward Leliana instead.

“The Herald’s sole purpose was to gain the Mage’s aid and that has been accomplished,” she continued and Maxwell felt his jaw flex slightly at the fact he was being spoken over.

In a vastly different manner than he was accustomed to, but it was still speaking over him, as if he was unimportant and didn’t exist.

“Ah, the voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was _just_ starting to enjoy the circular arguments!” Dorian greeted as he stepped out into the light.

Maxwell focused on him, taking the moment to step a little closer to Leliana, and nearly startled when she stepped forward, putting herself between Cullen and Maxwell. “Closing the Breach is all that matters,” Cassandra responded as she turned away from Dorian.

“And to close the Breach, we’ll need a great deal of magic, which means just as much lyrium. I have contacts that can help,” Maxwell said as he focused on Leliana.

“Contacts meaning smugglers? Send them word. We need every advantage,” Leliana questioned, eyes lighting up, even as they widened a little.

Ah, she had not known about Maxwell’s _previous_ smuggler contacts. He would take a moment to be proud before she discovered _how_ he got those contacts. It was only a matter of time, after all.

“We have _legitimate_ lyrium supply lines already,” Cullen sneered.

“And they don’t need to hear of this,” Leliana shot back, crossing her arms as she seemed ready to go toe to toe with the Commander.

While a sight to see, Maxwell had a feeling they needed the “former” Templar for some reason, and so he should probably remain alive.

Josephine subtly half-stepped between the two, her body angled toward Cullen so if she backed up, she would back away from Cullen and behind Leliana, even as she looked at Leliana. The contortion _had_ to hurt, but was likely the safest she could be between the Commander and the Spymaster. “Keep it under the table and I’ll do what I can to quiet any rumors,” Josephine said and Leliana gave a small nod.

Josephine backed up again as Leliana glanced toward Maxwell, though it was obvious she was keeping her attention on Cullen. “We should look into the things you saw in this…Dark Future. The assassination of Empress Celene, a Demon Army?” Leliana questioned and Maxwell inclined his head slightly.

“Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises, chaos for everyone,” Dorian interjected, drawing attention to himself once more.

Maxwell would be amused, if he wasn’t having to deal with Cullen. The man may say he was a former Templar, but it was in words alone and Maxwell only took people at their word until their actions started to speak for them instead.

“One battle at a time,” Cullen said sharply.

“It’s going to take _time_ to organize our troops, and the mage recruits. Let’s take this to the War Room,” he continued and Maxwell resisted the urge to make a sharp sound of disagreement.

“Join us,” Cullen said in a pleasant voice, focusing on Maxwell.

“None of this means anything without your mark after all,” he finished.

“Yes, of course,” Maxwell answered automatically and then promptly wished to bite off his tongue.

“Meet us there when _you’re_ ready,” Josephine added.

“I’ll skip the war council, but I _would_ like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind,” Dorian said and Maxwell felt his eyebrows lift slightly at that.

“So you’re staying?” Maxwell asked before he could stop himself, feeling his face heat slightly at the question.

“Oh, didn’t I mention? The South is so charming and rustic, I adore it to little pieces,” Dorian answered.

Maxwell gave a quiet huff and then nodded slightly. He knew the man, somewhat, and so far, his actions had backed up his words. He didn’t try to play at being someone he was not, not any more than anyone else did.

Dorian had stood against Magister Alexius, someone he very obviously cared for, because it was the right thing to do. “There’s no one I would rather be stranded in time with, future or present,” Maxwell responded, a small smile on his face that dropped when it tugged on one of his worse scars.

This cold wind was not doing his face any favors.

“Excellent choice! But let’s not get _stranded_ again anytime soon, yes?” Dorian responded and Maxwell managed a quiet chuckle at that.

“I’ll start preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the Mages will be enough to grant us victory,” Cullen interjected and Maxwell ignored him.

Cullen quickly walked away, Leliana shifting slightly to keep between Cullen and Maxwell. “He’s not a dog with the water-sickness, Leliana,” Cassandra hissed.

“He’s close enough,” Leliana responded coldly, and then she began to walk off.

Cassandra huffed and stormed after Leliana, Maxwell glancing toward Josephine. “It is just Leliana. I’m sure if you asked, she would explain herself. In this regard, at least,” Josephine said and Maxwell gave a small nod.

“Thank you, Lady Montilyet,” Maxwell responded, seriously doubting Josephine’s words regarding Leliana, and she murmured the proper response before she walked back to her office, already busy with her own work.

Maxwell immediately focused on Dorian. “Are the accommodations you received before we left be alright?” Maxwell asked and Dorian laughed.

“Oh, I’ll double-check with your lovely Ambassador there for something a bit more permanent, but in the meantime, where’s your apothecary?” Dorian asked.

“Out the doors and toward the set of houses directly to your left. And I think it is a compliment of he acts _brisk_ with you,” Maxwell answered and Dorian gave another short bow, though more flamboyant than the one given when they first met.

“Thank you…Maxwell,” Dorian responded and then turned to walk out.

Maxwell resisted the urge to watch him go and instead turned on his heel, almost instantly regretting it as it was his right heel. He nearly stumbled and barely managed to stay upright before he walked to Josephine’s office, hoping to speak with Josephine.

He blinked a few times to see Minaeve missing and he walk over to Josephine’s desk. “Lady Montilyet, if I may interrupt you for a moment?” he questioned and Josephine immediately looked back up at him.

“Of course, Ser Trevelyan. How can I help you?” Josephine asked and Maxwell hesitated.

Part of him wanted to ask, wanted to dig out more information regarding the Inquisition’s Commander. Another part of him wanted to avoid just that, knowing it was likely something that would greatly upset him.

“How did Commander Cullen become the Inquisition’s Commander?” Maxwell asked and Josephine hesitated.

“Lady Pentaghast recruited him out of Kirkwall,” Josephine responded hesitantly.

Maxwell stared and exhaled sharply. Well, this posed multiple problems, starting with Cassandra and ending with Cullen, as well as any Templars that had joined. _Knight-Captain_ of the _Gallows_ , and this…oh, he was going to have to do some work.

“Thank you for your time, Lady Montilyet,” Maxwell said with a small, though still proper, bow.

“It was no trouble at all, Ser Trevelyan,” Josephine answered and Maxwell carefully walked out of Josephine’s office.

This was not something Maxwell had expected and now he _knew_ that Cassandra’s bemoaning about not doing enough was just lip service. What was expected for her to say. Who _took the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall_ and put him into a position of power when they were trying to _stop_ the Templar-Mage War?

Cullen was the worst choice just on that alone. The only way it could be _worse_ were if Cassandra had brought a somehow still alive Meredith with her.

Possibly.

Maxwell wasn’t sure, and he feels a little sick to his stomach, already deciding that he was never going to be alone near Cullen, or Cassandra, so long as he could manage it.

Whoever thought that _the man who did nothing_ , at least, in Kirkwall was _acceptable_ when trying to _end the Mage-Templar War_ could not be trusted.

Maxwell hesitated as he drew closer to where Vivienne had set up within the Chantry.

He disliked the fact she was a Loyalist, but she played the Game well, and Senior Enchanter Lydia had been a Loyalist, but had been a good person. She believed that adhering to the Chantry would keep one _safe_ , and she was wrong, but Maxwell could hardly blame her for that.

He had thought the same, until he had realized that wasn’t the case.

And one didn’t become the First Enchanter as young as she had without it being _earned_ , especially not of what Maxwell knew of Montismmard.

Maxwell bit back a sigh and turned to address Vivienne, who turned upon his approach.

“If Fiona and her _malcontents_ are joining us as allies we need to be prepared. Abominations are inevitable,” Vivienne stated and Maxwell bit back another sigh.

“Cullen doesn’t have enough Templars to handle incidents. Some of the rank and file _will_ need to be trained,” she continued and Maxwell suddenly stood up straight, more Enchanter than tired Mage.

“We’re not wolves with the water sickness First Enchanter Vivienne. We’re don’t need _overseers_ like the Templars! We can take care of the Mages,” Maxwell responded.

Vivienne’s lips thinned ever so slightly and Maxwell resisted the urge to sigh quietly. “Magic is dangerous, just as fire is dangerous, Enchanter Trevelyan. Anyone who forgets that, gets burned,” Vivienne said quietly.

“I know, but Templars who are raised to fear magic will take every little twitch as a sign of blood magic. They will look for any excuse. They may not be a fire, but they _are_ thin ice,” Maxwell responded and Vivienne looked him over.

He had the distinct impression that he had just been appraised, as if she was rewriting her opinion. “Well, we shall see. I can set something up, I believe, so long as you are involved as well. This is _your_ idea, after all,” Vivienne responded and Maxwell inclined his head to her.

"I would be honored to work with you in that regard, First Enchanter," Maxwell answered.

He was about to step back when he remembered the tome. He carefully removed the tome from where he had it replace his personal research journal and held it out to her. “One of the tomes stolen by bandits,” he responded and Vivienne accepted it.

“Ah, so it is. How did you know?” Vivienne responded.

“I listen. I hope it helps the Circles you wish to build, First Enchanter,” Maxwell answered and turned away from her to walk back out of the Chantry.

He had spent enough time there today.


	8. A Walk Through Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> - Maxwell is basically on the verge of a panic attack for the entirety of this chapter, tight chest and all (personal experience based on that)
> 
> - Emetophobia (mild; when Maxwell is speaking with Bull and Krem)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally a filler chapter. Literally. It is like the cut episode of a TV show. You could probably skip this, but it has a lot of interaction and in the case of a couple, it is only the second time he's talked to them, entirely.
> 
> It also includes Maxwell interacting a little with some of the Mounts.
> 
> The next chapter is  _In Your Heart Shall Burn_. That doesn't need to be split up. It will also have a handwavy explanation of how the mounts were saved. Delivered by Horsemaster Dennet. I like horses, ponies, equines in general and the Mounts in Inquisition hold a special place in my heart.  _They will not die_.
> 
> This also involves a headcanon regarding Leliana with Blackwall.

* * *

Maxwell didn’t have time to pause to relax, to try to ease the tightness in his chest, as he hurried to where he knew the Mages were. He had to hurry, put in measures to keep them away from Cassandra, and Cullen. To apologize for putting them near the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, that if they had any problems _come to him_ , or Leliana.

It took a better part of what remained of the morning to get through it and Maxwell ignored the gnawing in his stomach that came from not having breakfast.

At least the Mages believed him, regarding the fact he did not know, especially when reminded he had been in Ostwick. The place where they did their best to keep them from knowing what was going outside the Circle regarding the war, and they agreed to go to Leliana, or Josephine, regarding any needs they had.

Only then did Maxwell eat, and then only briefly, his stomach twisting itself into knots.

* * *

Maxwell resisted the urge to remain in his cabin after eating his first meal of the day and instead left with a nod to Charter as he headed for the Tavern.

He could hear Maryden starting to sing _Sera Was Never_ the moment he stepped in and he winced a little when he heard Sera’s growl before he even saw her. A feat, with how brightly dressed she was, but seeing the brightness, even if only briefly as he rushed around, was…nice.

He hadn’t been able to speak with her much, and while she was loud, brash, and without any type of social niceties, or maybe because of that, she actually made Maxwell relax.

Well, likely not _relax_ but something close to it.

The trap around his chest eased.

He gathered a couple of mugs of Fereldan beer, since Flissa refused to let him pay, and he walked over to Sera. “Hello Sera,” he greeted as he offered her the mug.

She immediately grabbed it with a cackling laugh. “Ser Lordybloomers!” she exclaimed.

Maxwell sat down across from her and she grinned at him. “The beer is an apology for not speaking you much, beyond making sure you had settled well in Haven,” he said and she laughed.

“I’ll take it!” she exclaimed and snorted a little, which had Maxwell smiling, feeling his shoulders relax a little.

Despite her denial of being an Elf reminding him too much of Mages not wanting to be Mages, he felt some tension ease. “I hate to ask, but how do you feel about the Mages?” he questioned and he watched as she tensed a little.

“Look, I’m glad they’ve got their freedom and all that, so long as they do their creepy Fade shit away from me. Far away from me,” Sera grumbled and Maxwell inclined his head slightly.

“I don’t mind you. You don’t go shoving the creepy Fade shit into my face,” she added and Maxwell huffed quietly at that.

“Good to know,” he answered quietly and she cackled again before demanding he get her another mug.

He gave a quiet sound, but just exchanged their mugs with a small shrug when she raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t drink any of it. Easier this way,” he said and she laughed again, settling back with her drink.

* * *

Leaving the Tavern had rid Maxwell of any of the somewhat relaxation he had managed, the tightening around his chest returning. He made himself breathe and he exhaled quietly before he headed for the gates, deciding to go for as long as a walk he could manage, speak to those that rested outside of Haven’s gates.

Maxwell blinked a little as he stepped out of the gates of Haven to the sight of Leliana’s scouts leading the undead horse with a sword stabbed through his head through the snow. He could _feel_ the Fade curling around the creature and he walked forward slowly. “Whoa, easy,” he murmured softly when the creature startled at his appearance, and Maxwell reached out with his right hand toward the creature.

He ignored the quiet warnings and he gently pet the undead creature’s cheek with his palm. The skin was stretched and thin under his palm. This close, he could also feel which Spirit was within, though he couldn’t do it before he gained the Anchor.

“Well, hello,” he murmured, feeling the tightening in his chest loosen again, and the creature nudged its nose against his shoulder.

“Herald, its, uh, making people nervous,” one of the scouts said and Maxwell sighed.

“He’s not going to harm anyone, are you Valor?” he murmured and the undead creature gave a type of snort at that.

The creature then carefully bowed his head at that and Maxwell pat his neck, humming a little. “Where were you planning to put him?” Maxwell inquired and the scouts exchanged glances.

“We can show you, Herald,” one of the scouts answered and Maxwell smiled at that.

“Thank you. May I?” he questioned as he held his hand out for the rope.

The scout hesitated before she handed Maxwell the rope. He murmured quietly to Valor and ran a hand over the creature’s neck before he began to follow the scouts to where the surplus of the mounts were settled.

It was set further apart and he noticed that the Red Hart was standing free. “We couldn’t hold him anywhere,” the scout admitted quietly and Maxwell gave a quiet, amused sound, surprised when the Red Hart looked toward him.

“No, you wouldn’t be able to. Red Harts stand free,” Maxwell murmured as he guided Valor along.

He smiled when he saw the out of the way pen that had likely been built ahead of time. “What do you think, Valor?” he murmured and Valor gave a quiet snort at that.

Maxwell gave a gentle murmur and ran his palm along the creature’s cheek again. “Yes, I know, but you make people nervous,” he said softly and Valor gave a nod of acceptance.

He heard one of the scouts mutter about how creepy that was, even as Maxwell settled him in the pen. He smiled and he heard a quiet crunch of snow. He turned from Valor, only to find himself staring at the Red Hart.

His ears flicked as he stared at Maxwell. “Hello,” he greeted gently as he carefully held his right hand out to the Hart.

The Hart snorted softly and exhaled warmly against Maxwell’s hand before he lowered his head, then shoved it against Maxwell’s fingers. Maxwell nearly laughed at the fact it was very obviously a demand for Maxwell to scratch the base of his antlers, which Maxwell did. The Hart gave a quiet snort and after a few moments pulled away, exhaling against Maxwell’s hand again before he turned, walking away.

The scouts were staring and Maxwell cleared his throat slightly. “Where is the Barded Charger?” he inquired.

The scouts shared a smile before they tried to cover it up. “Horsemaster Dennet is practically smitten,” the female scout explained with a quiet giggle.

Maxwell smiled at that and nodded. “Makes sense. Is he smitten with the Hart as well?” he inquired and the scouts nodded with nearly identical giggles.

Maxwell nodded, his smiling slipping away as the ache in his face built up. “Temperance still beside the forge?” he asked and the scouts nodded.

“Thank you. Uh, try to keep the Templars away from Valor? He’ll engage them in combat otherwise, and likely win,” Maxwell responded and the scouts saluted.

He smiled at them, briefly, before he began to walk off, pausing to admire the Fereldan Forders, resisting the urge to pet them. Most of them were bay, like Maxwell’s own, but a few were chestnut, the gleam of red like burnished rose copper, and one was noticeably black, a rarity among Forders.

Walking away from the mounts, and back near the Templars, had his chest tightening again so he could barely breathe.

He should likely get that looked into but he just focused on getting through the Templars without hunching in on himself, ducking his head. He walked over toward where the Iron Bull was standing, along with Krem.

Maxwell smiled a little more honestly as he approached them. “Hello Krem, Iron Bull,” he greeted.

“Hello,” Krem answered with a small nod.

“Hey. Your men have some good form. Cullen’s putting his Templar training to good use, teaching them to angle the shield down slightly, so the magic doesn’t move up to hit the eyes. We used that trick back on Seheron,” Iron Bull stated and Maxwell felt his chest his tighten more at that.

He forced himself to breathe through it and noticed how Krem’s eyes suddenly narrowed in his direction. “Yes,” he answered and it tasted like ash on his tongue.

He paused to give a quiet cough. “Yes, he is,” he continued and he felt some bile rise in the back of his throat.

He swallowed it back and now he sees the Iron Bull is focused on him as well. “Not that it means much,” he added and Maxwell considered, then huffed.

“Very true. What is the Inquisition without a leader?” he responded, not even thinking about how the four of them could hardly work together without someone playing peacekeeper.

“Exactly,” the Iron Bull responded and Maxwell huffed at that as he tried to keep the tightness from overtaking everything.

“Maybe I should lead, become the Inquisitor,” he murmured.

The Iron Bull grunted slightly at that. “Why you?” he asked, and Maxwell gave a weary sigh.

“Because someone needs to be the Inquisitor, and I am willing,” Maxwell answered.

He would hate every second of it, but he would be willing to do it. He had done it before, and he felt like he was _already_ leading them. He kept having to step in, make the decision, though considering Cassandra and Cullen, it was a miracle anything had gotten done at all.

The Iron Bull gave another grunt and a nod, which had Maxwell letting out a quiet laugh, which eased some of the tightness in his chest.

Not enough.

“I almost feel like you are testing me,” Maxwell mused quietly and the Iron Bull gave a shrug that made his muscles flex.

Maxwell resisted the urge to take a step back and sighed quietly. “Are you in need of anything?” he inquired and the Iron Bull glanced to Krem.

“Mostly some work, to keep us from being bored, otherwise Rocky will blow up part of Haven,” Krem said and Maxwell hummed.

“Therinfal Redoubt has been quiet. I’ll speak with Leliana about it,” Maxwell promised and Krem gave a nod.

Maxwell nodded in return, giving a polite good-bye before he turned to Temperance. The gelding snorted quietly and lipped at Maxwell’s hair, which had him smiling, even if it made his face ache more. Temperance nuzzled Maxwell’s cheek and before he lowered his head to itch his forehead against Maxwell’s shoulder.

Maxwell scratched his neck, staying with Temperance until the tightness in his chest had eased enough that he could walk again.

The clashing of swords behind him did nothing to help with that.

* * *

Maxwell walked over to Blackwall, noticing how he was staring at the Breach. “It is larger even closer,” he said quietly and Blackwall startled slightly before he turned to Maxwell.

“Yes, it is. It is easy to forget how big it is, when you’re far away,” Blackwall commented.

“Everything is. Distance, it is said, gives one perspective. Truly, it just gives people the ability to pass judgement on if it is truly as _bad_ as everyone close to it makes it out to be. Distance--” Maxwell responded, only to cut himself off.

Blackwall was watching him and Maxwell made himself breathe, far too focused on the clash of swords. “Yes, it is,” Blackwall agreed quietly and there is a weight to his words that Maxwell doesn’t want to prod at.

“What do you want out of this?” Blackwall asked and Maxwell blinked a few times at that.

He considered the question and he exhaled softly. “I want peace,” he admitted softly.

It was a lofty, unattainable dream, but he wanted it anyway.

“Don’t we all,” Blackwall murmured and Maxwell joined him in staring up at the Breach instead of heading back in just yet.

* * *

Maxwell walked up to Leliana’s tent, pausing to speak with Varric, Solas, and Dorian as he did so.

He tried not to think about the fact he was avoiding Cassandra.

She looked up as he approached and he carefully leaned against the tent pole. "The Chargers are getting bored," he offered with a small smile and Leliana made a mildly amused sound.

"Oh?" she asked and he nodded.

"What about sending them to Therinfal Redoubt? It has been quiet and I know that makes everyone here nervous," he responded and Leliana considered before she nodded at that.

"I will see that they are sent out today, Herald," she said and Maxwell almost grimaced at that.

Leliana seemed far too amused by whatever she was seeing within him. He sighed and then rest his head against the tent pole. “What do you think of Blackwall?” he asked quietly and she crossed her arms, all tiny amusement gone.

“Blackwall is…not what I was expecting,” she admitted and Maxwell exhaled at that.

“Don’t tell me what you were expecting. We need a Grey Warden,” he murmured and Leliana gave a nod.

Maxwell sighed and nearly jumped out of his skin when Sera appeared with a cackle, grabbing onto him. “Come along Ser Lordybloomers! Time for supper!” she shouted and began to drag him toward the tavern.

He went rather willingly, ignoring the way his breath hitched as she held tight to his elbow.


	9. In Your Heart Shall Burn Part 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> \- Graphic Violence; oh boy does it get Graphic (the South Trebuchet fight especially)
> 
> \- Blatant mention of Child Death once more (I can’t mark it off since it is in a scene flow, not a scene itself)
> 
> \- Semi-Graphic Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, look, my hatred of Dragon Age’s Templar Order is showing.
> 
> You will see a line. You will know the line when you read it. I could not resist that line.
> 
> Vivienne is beautiful and amazing and I will respect her at all times.
> 
> (Maxwell had trouble with her _because_ of initial interaction, specifically ‘The last loyal mages’ part. He’s getting over it, but he still respected her and, again, sorry I did not edit that line correctly, that was my bad, it is fixed now.)
> 
> In this, you’re about to see a huge jump in ability for Maxwell, because he’s an Enchanter. He is about the same age as Dorian, into his 30s. He’s going to have a massive array of spells he’s trained with and now that he’s managed to stop the instinctive fighting of his magic against the intrusion (the Mark), he’s back to being a _very_ efficient mage.
> 
> We’re also going to see some head-canon stuff I have about the Mark and what it does to the Inquisitor’s perception of the world.

* * *

Maxwell rubbed his thumb against his left palm, trying to ease the ache slightly as he lead the way up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

“It still hurts you?” Solas questioned and Maxwell startled slightly at Solas’ sudden appearance.

“You are quieter than a lone wolf,” Maxwell muttered and Solas gave him a look.

Maxwell let out a quiet sigh and flexed his hand before he let it fall to his side. “No more than anything else,” he murmured and Solas glanced at him.

“If it still aches after we close the Breach, will you let me look at it?” Solas asked and Maxwell nodded.

Solas gave a nod in return as he continued to walk next to Maxwell. “If you so desire, I can speak more of my journeys in the Fade and the Spirits I have met there,” he offered quietly and Maxwell glanced at him.

“I always enjoy hearing of your journeys,” Maxwell answered and Solas gave a nod, beginning to speak of one of his more peaceful journeys of the Fade.

Maxwell tilted his head slightly as he listened to the explanation, Solas’ words helping him to ignore the twinge in his right ankle.

All too soon, Maxwell found himself back at the Temple, standing near the Rift below the Breach. He walked down to it this time, instead of jumping down like he had last time, and he walked toward the Rift. He nearly let out a shout as agony raced up from his palm to his shoulder, green lightning arcing around his hand he gasped.

He closed his eyes hard and gritted his teeth, thankful for the agony that kept his worst nightmares at bay. He walked forward and focused. He could hear Solas shouting instructions to the Mages and Maxwell inhaled sharply.

 _Close the Breach_.

That was what he wanted, and he felt the green lightning arc against him, fight against his will. He pressed, then hesitated, and shifted. He _coaxed_. He still wished it, but he wasn’t going to force the foreign magic to do as he wanted.

He felt the magic twist in his palm and then it shot out, colliding with the rift. A part of him felt that this was what a spinning wheel must feel like, on some level. The raw magic refined into something useable and then coaxed out to stitch up the Breach.

When it was done, Maxwell didn’t have time to shout a warning about the backlash before it hit them all. He was surprised when it barely hit him, knocking him down, but not sending him flying like it did with the rest. He struggled to his one knee and he gasped quietly when he felt what remained of the backlash rush into his left hand, a new ache rushing up to his shoulder.

He trembled a little as he stayed down on one knee, curling around his left arm briefly, hearing the groans behind him. He trembled faintly, trying to piece it together when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He tensed, freezing, even as he slowly turned his gaze up to Cassandra. He did his best not to show his fear as she smiled down at him. “You did it!” she said excitedly and Maxwell merely nodded as he got to his feet in such a way it got her hand off his shoulder.

He slowly turned to the cheers as he shook out his left hand.

* * *

Maxwell stood up on the little shelf, as he privately called it, where the Chantry rested, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the residents of Haven celebrate the closing of the Breach.

It felt too easy, and that made Maxwell nervous. He gave a small smile when Varric looked up toward where he was and lifted a hand to wave, which had Varric focusing back to the celebration.

No one else of those Maxwell had personally recruited was there, though he knew the Iron Bull was speaking with the Chargers, as they had run into an Envy Demon after they checked out Therinfal Redoubt.

Then again, he thought he saw one of the Chargers down there.

He hoped it wasn’t Rocky. They were still trying to figure out how he had blown up part of a rock formation to plunge it into the frozen solid lake, and Maxwell would rather not have a repeat of that, only with Haven.

Maxwell twitched a little when he heard someone approaching over the snow and glanced over his shoulder, swallowing hard when he saw it was Cassandra.

The Void take it.

“Solas has confirmed that while the heavens are scarred, the Breach is sealed. There are lingering Rifts and we still do not know who caused the Breach in the first place, but this was a victory,” Cassandra said as she kept her intense focus on him.

“It also doesn’t hurt that word of your heroism has already spread,” she added, sounding pleased.

“Yes, that’s always good to know,” Maxwell responded quietly and looked back down at the revelers, though not focusing on them with Cassandra too close.

“It wasn’t just me, however. We all earned this victory, and most of the work was with others, not myself. It was just luck that put me in the center of it,” he added softly, noticing Dorian at the edges of the revelry, just barely in the light of the fire.

Maxwell gave a small frown at that, before he turned his attention fully on Cassandra.

“That is a strange kind of luck. I’m not sure if we need more or less,” she responded and Maxwell just gave a vague nod of agreement.

“You’re right, however. This was a victory of alliance, one of the few in recent memory. Now that the Breach is closed, our main concern dealt with, this alliance will need a _new_ focus,” Cassandra continued her intensity making Maxwell’s spine skitter and his shoulders tense with the effort Maxwell was exerting to keep from dropping them.

Maxwell was kept from having to tense further when he heard the ringing of the warning bell. He turned, focusing on it as soldiers rushed to arms. “Forces approaching! To arms!” Cullen shouted and Maxwell didn’t hesitate to look to Cassandra.

“We must get to the Gates!” Cassandra shouted, already running, though Maxwell just jumped down from the shelf, ignoring how it made his ankle twinge.

“I knew this was too easy,” Varric muttered.

“So had I,” Maxwell agreed as he tore toward the Gates, beating Cassandra there.

“Cullen?” Cassandra questioned as she ran up.

“One watchtower reporting. A massive force is approaching and the bulk is over the mountain,” Cullen reported and Maxwell walked around his back toward the Gates, feeling a _hum_ in his left palm that meant the Fade.

“Under what banner?” he heard Josephine ask.

“None,” Cullen answered.

“None?” Josephine asked in disbelief.

The Gates rattled, two volleys of flame peaking from under the wood, and a boy cried, “I can’t come in unless you open!”

Maxwell moved, feeling a resonance, and a solider opened a gate.

A Templar stood there, for a moment, before he gurgled and fell, a boy in a floppy hat standing behind him.

Maxwell felt the thrum and something… _familiar_ regarding the boy. “I’m Cole. I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know,” the boy, Cole, explained as he came up to Maxwell, one hand coming up to touch his arm before he pulled back his hand.

“Sorry, that hurts,” he said softly and Maxwell felt his heart slam against his ribs.

“What’s going on?” Maxwell asked gently, tamping down his fear as he did so and Cole ducked his head slightly.

“The Templars come to kill you,” Cole explained in a dark tone and Maxwell froze.

Cole glanced up, as if to say something more, before he backed up as Cullen stormed over. Maxwell didn’t flinch back, even though he wanted to, and Cole stopped dead. He immediately darting in close to Maxwell instead of backing away further, head tilted down so his hat hid his face.

Cole was standing between Maxwell and Cullen.

“Templars? They would never attack so blindly, not even for our talks with the Mages,” Cullen snapped and Maxwell tensed further at that.

“The Red Templars went to the Elder One,” Cole corrected and then he turned to Maxwell, looking up again with eyes like ice in a ghostly pale face.

“Do you know him? He knows you. You stole his Mages,” he explained and Maxwell frowned.

Cole immediately turned and pointed. “There,” he explained and Maxwell looked, eyes widening slightly when he saw a man on the hill.

Cole shook his head subtly, even as Cullen murmured off to the side. “The one with the smoke,” Cole whispered and Maxwell startled slightly when the Elder One appeared, far too tall and limbs too long.

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole said in his dark tone once more.

Maxwell nodded and looked around, eyes falling to the trebuchets, already remembering how he heard the experienced soldier talk about siege warfare during one of his walks around Haven.

“Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force with everything you can,” Cullen stated.

“I know,” Maxwell answered and let his eyes sweep over the field quickly before he turned, surprised to see the entire, well, Inner Circle there.

“First Enchanter Vivienne, Iron Bull, Varric, I need you with me. Everyone else, I need you to help get the noncombatants into the Chantry and help to guard it, in case the enemy gets past us. Everyone who is a combatant, do _not_ hold back, because those who are coming to attack us will not!” Maxwell ordered, his Enchanter voice in full force.

“Yes, Herald,” Cassandra stated.

Maxwell nodded and brought his staff around, Vivienne stepping up next to him. “Enchanter Trevelyan, why me?” she inquired.

“Knight-Enchanter, correct?” he questioned and she gave a nod.

“I need that,” Maxwell answered softly and he focused forward, ignoring Cullen, already shifting his attention to the North Trebuchet which was about to come under attack.

He didn’t twitch, though it was a near thing, as Vivienne’s Spirit Blade appeared and Maxwell brought up a Barrier around them all.

* * *

Maxwell snapped out his hand, a Lightning Bolt crashing into the mass of flesh and red lyrium, the backlash knocking over just simple armored men. He twisted and sent an Immolate under the feet of another creature of flesh and red lyrium, sending if flying back, on fire, as Iron Bull slammed his axe into the last of the first wave.

“Anyone injured?” Maxwell called as he readied his next volley.

“I’m good Aegis,” Varric answered.

Iron Bull just gave a low growl and Maxwell glanced to Vivienne. “I’m quite alright, Enchanter,” she called.

Maxwell gave her a respectful nod and cast an Energy Barrage as the second wave crashed against them.

* * *

There were too many bodies for Maxwell to burn, but he was also too drained. He had used too much mana in a short amount of time, especially the Immolates, though that fed back into his Storm magic in making his spells stronger so long as he had the mana to support it.

He didn’t have much mana left to support any spells.

“Herald, the South Trebuchet! It’s not firing!” one of the Mages, one with cool dark skin and close cropped black hair, said.

Maxwell vaguely recognized him and he gave a nod to the Mage, pointing him out toward a section of the wall of Templars that was weakened by a barrage of arrows. The Mage immediately took off, even as Varric muttered, “Well, that’s not good.”

“Truly, I thought it meant they had fired it all,” Maxwell returned and began to _move_ , giving a nod to Vivienne.

As they neared the South Trebuchet, Maxwell gave a nod and Fade Stepped, passing through a Templar, or Red Templar now, Marksman, the man freezing just before Maxwell blasted him with an Immolate, the form shattering.

The fighting began anew once more, Maxwell still having a drag of mana reserves, relying more on channeling through innate magic of his staff and strategic Fade Steps. He gave a sharp smile as he felt the crackle of lightning across his skin and lightning struck at the frozen Red Templar Guard.

He twisted on his left heel, quickly noting Vivienne, Varric, and Iron Bull. He twisted and took a Fade Step, going through a Red Templar that reminded him of a Rogue that was sneaking up on Varric. “What would we do without you Aegis?” Varric asked.

“Succumb to the Breach?” he questioned as the last of the Red Templars were downed, the fallen Inquisition soldiers scattered amongst them.

At least Maxwell now knew why the South Trebuchet hadn’t been firing.

He ran over to the trebuchet and began to turn the wheel to aim it. “Keep them off my back!” he called as he continued to turn the wheel, feeling that _Fade feeling_ once more and Cole was there.

“Don’t worry, I will help,” Cole promised and then he disappeared in a swirl of smoke, a glowing form in Maxwell’s eyes.

Maxwell nodded and focused on the wheel, until he had to leave it to leap into the fray, letting out an Energy Barrage as his opening spell. He twisted and let the Storm magic curl around him, lightning arcing off of him to hit another twisted form of flesh and red lyrium. He spun his staff and slammed the blade at the bottom into the creature before he sent a Chain Lightning along the staff.

The creature screeched and fell back off the blade, shuddering still as the lightning continued to arc along, hitting the others, including a Red Templar Rogue that was hiding in the shadows. A Red Templar Shadow.

Maxwell turned and sent a Lightning Bolt arcing over, hitting a large Red Templar Knight that was about to charge Vivienne. The Red Templar screamed and Maxwell twisted, about to blast another, only to watch it fall to a pair of daggers wielded by the boy.

“I came to help,” Cole repeated and disappeared again.

Maxwell looked around and then rushed back up to the wheel, turning it again as he heard Iron Bull shout that there were more coming. Maxwell focused on the wheel instead of the fight and let out a sharp cry of agony as he was slammed off the platform, hearing something _crack_.

He hit the snow and twisted, gasping for air.

He barely managed to avoid a downswing of a Red Templar with a sword and shield.

Maxwell shifted and vaguely realized a Barrier he had not cast was surrounding him as he cast an Immolate under the Red Templar’s feet.

The Red Templar was blasted into the air, landing hard, flames clinging to what little cloth remained of the armor, and Maxwell stumbled to his feet. He regained his balance, ignoring the agony, and nearly lost his balance when a Red Templar Shadow _slammed_ against the Barrier.

He backed away and slammed a Lightning Bolt into the being. It screeched and Maxwell channeled through his staff, using the innate magic to send ice damage flying across the field, one arm wrapped around his rib cage, feeling fiery agony with every breath.

Broken ribs. Fantastic.

“You’re hurt,” Cole said and Maxwell nodded.

“Protect them, please,” Maxwell said and Cole’s head tilted to the side, ice eyes watching Maxwell.

He then nodded and disappeared, and Maxwell got back to the wheel. He panted and put his staff on his back before he began to turn the wheel, ignoring the burn of his ribs as he did so.

He forced himself to breathe as the ache grew when he heard a screaming-roar _thing_ and his head snapped up, eyes widening when he saw the hulking _mass_. He tensed and then swung his staff around throwing up a barrier around his companions, startled when he saw a barrier leap up around him once more.

He began to throw magic at the creature, soon spreading it out as more Red Templar forces swarmed around the hulking thing that didn’t seem to _care_ who it hit. It attacked allies and foes alike, uncoordinated and violent.

When it eventually fell, it almost seemed to collapse in on itself. “What did I tell ya? Red lyrium is some creepy shit,” Varric stated.

Maxwell let out a pained laugh at the before he turned back to the wheel. “Are you alright Aegis?” Varric questioned and Maxwell just let out a grunt as he finished manning the trebuchet and it fired.

Maxwell walked down the steps, doing his best not to clutch at his ribs as the boulder hit true, into the snow-covered mountainside. Varric came to stand next to him, subtly offering support as they watched the accelerated avalanche take out the approaching forces.

He could hear the people starting to cheer, which made Maxwell’s head twitch a little, and then there was a high-pitched, somewhat familiar, sound. Maxwell ducked down slightly, eyes wide as he saw a large dragon swoop over them, blasting the trebuchet apart.

“Ah, shit,” Varric muttered.

“Well said, Varric,” Vivienne responded as the dragon swooped close overhead, each beat of the beast’s wings noticeable.

“We need to get back to the gates and retreat to the Chantry. It might hold long enough,” Maxwell ordered as he began to move, ignoring the pull in his ribcage as he began to rush back.

He only reached Harrit’s forge before he was stopped by Harrit trying to break into the house. “Herald, I need some help with this door!” Harrit shouted.

“Enchanter Trevelyan, we cannot stop to help every lost soul,” Vivienne remarked as Maxwell turned to help him.

“We can help enough,” he responded and rushed to the door, even as the dragon, which looked too much like an Archdemon for Maxwell’s comfort, soared overhead, roaring.

He didn’t hesitate to blast the boxes with his magic, destroying them to allow Harrit in. “Thank you, Herald. Just grabbing the essentials,” he said, even as Maxwell turned back to the gates.

He stilled upon seeing Temperance wasn’t in the pen, as well as the burning tents. His mouth went dry and his stomach twisted slightly at that sight.

“Aegis, we gotta move,” Varric said and Maxwell nodded, taking off for the gate, ignoring the pain in his ribs and the fear and despair pounding in his heart.

“Fall back!” Cullen shouted and Maxwell rushed in, turning enough hard enough to nearly have his ankle give out from under him to help Cullen shove the gates closed.

Even if being that close to Cullen made his skin freeze and his breath get a little quicker, a little sharper.

It didn’t do his ribs any favors and he was quick to pull away from Cullen retreating quickly to the steps. “Everyone fall back to the Chantry. That is the only building that can hold against that _beast_ ,” Cullen shouted and Maxwell kept away from him as best he could.

“We just need to make them work for it,” he added and Maxwell’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“They haven’t destroyed _all_ our reserves yet,” Maxwell argued and Cullen shook his head slightly at that before he rushed to the Chantry.

Maxwell glared before he began to follow, and went to the right to help Lysette without hesitation when he saw her engaged with too many foes.

He threw up a Barrier as he ran, immediately followed by Chain Lightning, hitting those attacking Lysette. Iron Bull charged past him to engage and one of Bianca’s bolts flew past Maxwell’s arm to sink into the throat of the Red Templar abomination.

Vivienne ran past Maxwell, her Spirit Blade gleaming, and Maxwell just focused on the fight.

* * *

Maxwell ignored his aches and pains, keeping a sharp eye on the sky as he stood guard at the open Chantry doors. “Move, keeping going! The Chantry will be your shelter!” Chancellor Roderick shouted and Maxwell felt that shift that meant Cole was near.

He glanced over his shoulder and startled slightly at the sight of Cole close to the Chancellor.

Maxwell backed into the Chantry carefully and the doors were swung closed behind him just as the Chancellor fell. Maxwell moved toward him instantly, even as Cole helped support the Chancellor. “He tried to stop a Templar. The sword cut deep. He’s going to die,” Cole stated as he carefully helped the Chancellor over to a chair near one of the pillars.

“What a charming boy,” Chancellor Roderick gasped out and Maxwell followed them over, helping the Chancellor down into the chair.

Before he could say anything, he heard Cullen call, “Herald!”

Maxwell tensed and then quickly stood up, turning to face Cullen.

“Our position isn’t good. That dragon stole back any time you managed to earn us,” he said as he walked quickly up to Maxwell.

Maxwell’s shoulders tensed as he forced himself to continue standing tall instead of shrinking down, bowing his head. It made his ribs _scream_ and even his neck began to ache with the effort of keeping it lifted instead of bowing it as well. “I noticed,” Maxwell responded, ignoring the way Solas had walked over to him.

He couldn’t really ignore it when Solas began to use magic to knit his ribs back together.

Maxwell hissed through his teeth as he looked away, deciding to look for those he knew instead of looking at Cullen.

He glanced around, quickly finding the Iron Bull talking with who had to be his Chargers, since Maxwell could see Krem and Vivienne was to the right of them at her table and seemed to be searching for something. Varric was close by, eyeing Cullen, and Dorian was hovering, next to Varric, but watching Maxwell. Sera was grumbling curses under her breath, arms crossed next to a pillar, while Cassandra stood almost in the shadows, speaking with Leliana, Josephine, and Mother Giselle.

“I’ve seen an Archdemon before. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that,” Cole stated.

“I don’t care what it looks like! It has cut a path for that army and they will kill _everyone_ in Haven!” Cullen snapped and Maxwell felt his breath freeze in his chest.

Small broken bodies of children. The annulment had already begun, when those that trusted Maxwell put their plan to run away in effect.

They hadn’t known until they went to retrieve the children.

Maxwell blinked hard and noticed Cole staring at him. “The Elder One doesn’t care about the Village. He just wants the Herald,” Cole stated.

“Please don’t call me that,” Maxwell muttered.

Cole tilted his head slightly and Maxwell sighed, glancing at Cole. “And if we give him what he wants?” Maxwell asked.

“Aegis,” Varric muttered.

“He wants to kill you, but he’ll crush them, kill them anyway. I don’t like him,” Cole answered.

“I’m not particularly fond of him myself,” Maxwell answered.

“You don’t like…?” Cullen asked before he cut himself off with a sharp sound.

“Herald, there is no tactics to make this survivable,” Cullen said.

Maxwell shot Cullen a sharp look at that. “The only thing that slowed them down was the avalanche. If we could turn the remaining trebuchets, we could cause one last slide,” Cullen continued and Maxwell bit back the urge to sneer at that.

“That would _bury_ Haven,” Maxwell responded, doing his very best to not look toward the younger people clustered in the Chantry.

At least there were no children in sight, but only barely.

“We’re dying, but we can at least decide how. Not many get that chance,” Cullen responded.

“No, they don’t,” Maxwell agreed, though it tasted foul in his mouth.

“Well, I always wanted a nice burial,” Dorian remarked idly from where he was hovering.

Maxwell sighed as Solas stepped away. “It seems I wasted my magic,” he remarked and Maxwell resisted the urge to make a sound at that.

“Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it, before he dies,” Cole announced and Maxwell turned, getting away from Cullen.

He didn’t hesitate to kneel down next to Chancellor Roderick. “There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you took the Summer Pilgrimage, as I have. The people can get out,” Roderick stated as he leaned forward slightly.

Maxwell didn’t hesitate to help Roderick to stand, even though it made him ache and every old pain he had act up anew. “She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so…so I could tell you,” he rasped out, his hand becoming soaked with his own blood.

He didn’t have much time.

“What do you mean?” Maxwell asked before he could stop himself.

“It was an accident, in a way. I had noticed an overgrown path and decided to follow it. She must have shown it to me. After so many in the Conclave dead, that I should be the one to remember it. Perhaps…perhaps this is more. Perhaps _you_ are more,” Roderick gasped out and Maxwell couldn’t stop from tensing if he tried.

Even though he was so tense he swore he was stone.

“Can you get them out?” Maxwell asked as he turned to face Cullen, wishing he didn’t have to rely on the man.

He saw a movement in the shadows and his eyes skipped past Cullen to Leliana, who only gave Maxwell a small nod.

“Possibly. _If_ he shows us the way, but what of your escape?” Cullen responded.

Maxwell didn’t respond, just gave his left hand a small shake. “Perhaps you will surprise us, find a way…” Cullen stated before he seemed to remember Maxwell as a mage and moved away quickly.

“Inquisition, follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry, _now_!” Cullen ordered and Maxwell looked over to see Cole supporting Roderick.

“I will help him,” Cole promised and Maxwell nodded to the boy.

Roderick stopped Cole at that, however, and looked up at Maxwell. “Herald,” he gasped out and Maxwell barely kept from flinching.

“If you are meant for this, if the _Inquisition_ is meant for this, I pray for you,” Roderick stated and then continued onward.

Two soldiers began to run past Maxwell and Cullen approached. “They’ll load the trebuchets,” Cullen said.

“I’ll fire them once you’re above the tree line. I think I’ll be able to hold his attention till you are safe,” Maxwell said and turned at that, heading for the doors of the Chantry.

“If we’re to have a chance, you have to let that thing hear you,” Cullen called.

“I know,” Maxwell answered, not looking back.

“Wait up Aegis,” Varric called.

“No,” Maxwell argued as he walked out of the Chantry.

“It is not your choice, Enchanter Trevelyan. It is ours,” Vivienne responded and the Iron Bull chuckled.

“Besides, if there’s one thing I know, it is how to get an asshole’s attention,” Varric added cheerfully.

Maxwell gave a sharp sound at that and then nodded. “We can use that,” he responded as the Chantry doors closed behind them.


	10. In Your Heart Shall Burn Part 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> \- Graphic Violence (someone gets turned to ice and explodes; I think I’m allowed to say “Graphic Violence” in response to that)
> 
> \- Semi-Graphic Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone may have noticed an additional tag. I put that in there because it is another part of Maxwell. And while no death happens on-screen, it is something that often throws Maxwell for a loop and he remembers. In the last chapter it was pretty vivid.
> 
> You may have also noticed that I play more with what mages do, magic wise. I’m hoping to showcase their different styles a little more as time passes. (Wait till I have all four Mages needing to travel for some reason I’ll make up)

* * *

Maxwell, Vivienne, Varric, and the Iron Bull cut through the forces they ran across.

More than once Maxwell had been knocked off his feet, though so had Varric. Iron Bull and Vivienne, not as much.

Or at all.

Vivienne side-stepped into the Fade on occasion, and it thrummed in the palm of Maxwell’s hand every time.

They were more concentrated the closer Maxwell got to the trebuchet within Haven’s walls, the one that wouldn’t have been destroyed. It was likely also the only one standing.

It is one, long, _bloody_ battle to get from the Chantry to the trebuchet. Maxwell’s flecked with blood, both his own and the Red Templars’, at least from the ones who still _could_ bleed.

The blade at the end of his staff is likely going to be stained with the blood on it, making it useless if he can’t get it off before damage is done. Damage might be anyway, either way. So the sight of another force waiting for them, more foes, is exhausting.

He is on the last dregs of his mana, barely able to hold a Barrier, let alone anything more powerful. Vivienne had fallen back to her staff two fights back, and Varric had had to collect bolts as he went, running out far too soon.

Even the Iron Bull was flagging, despite the fact he was usually invigorated by his injuries.

They had no choice, however.

They had to _fight_ and Maxwell used the last of his mana to _slam_ a Lightning Bolt down onto the mass of flesh and red lyrium that was surrounded by other Red Templars.

He panted quietly and he began to use the innate magic of his staff, twisting and moving, feeling the Fade curl around him. He felt sparking in his left palm, but he ignored it, even as he ignored the ache growing in his right ankle. He kept more on his left foot to compensate for it, but he ended up back to back to Vivienne.

Maxwell hadn’t fought with a fellow mage like this since he took on bandits with his fellow Enchanter, Ava Garel. He had never fought with Vivienne before like this, and didn’t know all her tricks, but he trusted her and he twisted, manipulating the Energy Barrage so it swirled around them.

“Impressive Enchanter Trevelyan,” Vivienne responded in the silence following them wiping out this wave.

“Thank you, First Enchanter,” Maxwell responded, resisting the urge to shudder at the use of his title.

He wasn’t sure why she was using it, but he knew she wasn’t belittling him. She had no idea about what Ostwick was really like, or maybe she did.

He didn’t know.

He walked, limped honestly, over to the trebuchet and settled his staff on his back before he began to turn the wheel, aiming it. He could feel his mana regenerating slowly as he did so, only to stop turning wheel when he heard the Iron Bull shout, “Reinforcements!”

Maxwell spun on his left heel, away from the wheel, the trebuchet at his back as he drew his staff.

He didn’t hesitate to let out a Chain Lightning, catching the line of guards as they leapt over the wall. A barrier wrapped around him as a shield _slammed_ into it. The barrier cracked and then _exploded_ into shards of ice.

Maxwell turned and cast a Barrier of his own over Vivienne, barely avoiding get hit with an arrow. He pulled away from the pain and then Fade Stepped through the archer, the man frozen behind him as he turned, Fire Mines in a circle around him.

One went directly under the feet of the archer and it ripped through the archer, ice pieces and blood flying around from the force of it. Some of the blood splattered across his face. He only paused enough to rub his upper arm against his forehead before he focused on the battle. He began to draw the enemies toward him, giving the others time to breathe and gather themselves.

The Fire Mines did their job and those that didn’t die were hit with a Chain Lightning that arced to them all. He looked around at that, ignoring the way he was splattered and glanced over to his companions. “Any severe injuries?” he questioned.

“I’m good Aegis. This is all some _creepy shit_ though,” Varric responded.

“Always is,” Maxwell answered calmly as he carefully settled his staff on his back, returning to the trebuchet.

He began to work on turning it once more, grabbing and hauling it around. He mentally measured where it was aiming, where it would need to hit to bury Haven and he gritted his teeth against the ache in his limbs.

“Ah, shit,” Varric said and Maxwell whirled around, only to still, his heart leaping into his throat.

The large, hulking, mess of flesh and red lyrium earlier this Fade forsaken night had been shocking. Large and brutal, it seemed to only attack in the direction it was pointed.

This.

This was _much_ worse.

It was a creature of red lyrium, a walking statue of it, limbs cobbled together and too long. Whoever the red lyrium creature had been before, it no longer was. It was lost entirely to the red lyrium, a sharp creature that only roared and attacked.

“Shit,” Maxwell gasped out and then dove out of the way of an arm, or what once had _been_ an arm, swinging down where he had been standing.

Maxwell was lucky it hadn’t taken out the trebuchet.

He twisted around and began to fire off spells, only distracted from it when he had to kill whatever Red Templar was close to him. He got more blood on him until it was only the hulking _thing_ of red lyrium.

Oh, may the Spirit of Valor have faith in him, that _thing_ was monstrous. Maxwell grit his teeth and then began to spin his staff, collecting up the ambient Storm magic that had been building around him throughout the fight.

It was a shame he was about to destroy it, but the thing was near unstoppable. It took their hits and didn’t stop, just sent up red lyrium spikes and swung around. It had caught the Iron Bull three times, and the third had knocked him unconscious, Varric risking a great deal to get him revived while Vivienne faced off against it alone with her Spirit Blade.

Well, not alone, but fairly close to it.

So he pulled and wove, and began to move carefully, as if following dance steps. He remembered, back when he was younger and less scarred and the way Fortunata was allowed to visit on special days.

Good to be a member of the Trevelyan family, some days, even as a Mage.

He continued to spin and gather and then he turned, unleashing it all through his staff into one _massive_ Lightning Bolt.

The staff shattered in his hands, bits of wood flying away as it hit the creature directly in its one weak spot, apparently. It began to shudder and shake and Maxwell stared as it just collapsed to the ground, pieces of it breaking off, slightly smoking.

Maxwell exhaled shakily as he slowly walked over to it. He ignored the slight ache in his hands that came from overcharging the staff like that and he stared down on it.

He almost thought he could see a face, the helmet melded into the red lyrium, as well as the breast plate. In the case of the breast plate, however, the Templar sword was heavily obscured, and Maxwell felt his chest constrict almost. “By the Void,” Maxwell said softly, barely audible even to his own ears.

“Shit,” Varric said.

“Well said,” Vivienne agreed as she nudged her staff blade against the fallen thing, specifically at the one of the smoking pieces.

“I think that’s the last of ‘em,” the Iron Bull stated.

“Omitting the dragon and the Elder One,” Maxwell agreed as he walked back over to the trebuchet.

“Where is your staff?” Vivienne questioned.

Maxwell waved a vague hand to the battlefield around the trebuchet before he began to work on turning it once more.

“You _dropped_ it?” Varric asked and Maxwell huffed quietly.

“I _shattered_ it. That was the last trick I could pull, and it isn’t one I particularly like to do. I do my best to use the cheapest staves possible when I do it, and I have another like the one I just shattered, though the blade and grip were destroyed with the staff. Oh well, can’t have everything,” Maxwell responded as he continued to haul the wheel on the trebuchet around to aim it.

He paused every few seconds to listen for an attack coming up, but it seemed they really had knocked out the bulk of it, drawing everything’s attention to them. “Well, Varric, you certainly weren’t wrong regarding your knowledge of getting an asshole’s attention,” Maxwell commented and Varric gave a chuckle at that.

Maxwell sighed as he finished aiming the trebuchet and stepped back when he heard a low hiss. He looked up and saw the dragon turning around in the sky, heading straight for them. “Run now!” he shouted as he began to back up, turning on his left heel to hurry them forward.

Maxwell stumbled slightly and let out a sharp sound as he was half blasted by the dragon, red lyrium sprouting where its fire had hit.

He rolled across the ground, his shoulder, possibly right, sparking with agony, along with his ribs. He panted quietly as he lay there a little dazed, sure he most have hit his head as well, getting his bearings before he began to slowly get up, eyes widening slightly as the Elder One walked out of the flames from the dragon’s attack toward him.

He carefully got to his feet as quickly as he could, ignoring the urge to wrap his arm protectively around his ribs as he did so, still panting quietly.

The Elder One kept walking toward him and Maxwell began to back up with a large _boom_ of something very heavy landing startled him, heart hammering his chest as he turned toward what _had_ to be a dragon.

He turned and began to back away from them both as the dragon galloped in a haphazard way toward him, letting out that shriek-roar it had been using the entire night. He backed up further as it growled, pale purple-grey, red lyirum infested scaly skin stretched over itself as it began to snake its head toward Maxwell.

It looked almost as if someone had found a mostly still together dragon and then raised it back from the dead.

It gave another roar and then began to settle back, head raising to strike out at him, likely with fire. Maxwell’s palms itched in preparation for throwing up a barrier and he his breath hitched when, instead of attacking, it lifted its head to scream at one of the moons.

“Enough!” the Elder One demanded as he blasted some fiery red lyrium at Maxwell, driving Maxwell unwillingly toward the dragon.

He tensed at that, still keeping his barrier at the tips of his fingers, even though it _itched_ , breathing hard. “Pretender, you toy with things beyond your ken. No more,” the Elder One demanded in the voice from the Fade echo, acting like a lord before his court.

Time. He needed _time_ so the residents of Haven could get _out_.

Lord before his court, self-important.

_Talkative_.

“What are you? Why are you even doing this?” Maxwell questioned and he tried to shift away from the dragon.

He ignored the Elder One’s rasping chuckle at his movements. “Mortals beg for truths they cannot have. It is _beyond_ what you are, what I was. Know me, know what you have _pretended_ to be,” the Elder One said.

Maxwell almost wanted to laugh, not just at the fact he was _right_ regarding this Elder One, but also over the idea he had willingly pretended anything at _all_.

“Exalt the Elder One, the Will that is Corypheus!” the Elder One said and he pointed at Maxwell. “You will kneel!”

Maxwell shook his head at that and stood up straight, ignoring how it made his body _scream_ in agony. “I have spent enough time kneeling before those who would think to hold power over me. I will _not_ kneel to _you_!” he responded loudly as he stared Corypheus down.

Corypheus chuckled at that. “Oh, but I _am_ more powerful than you, power far beyond your ken. Power that is very much what I have. It matters not, though I should have expected this. You will _always_ resist,” he responded and Maxwell frowned slightly at that.

He had resisted against Corypheus before and he almost jumped back toward the dragon when Corypheus brought out an orb. It looked faintly like an Ancient Tevinter, or, more accurately, Ancient _Elven_ artifact and red lightning began to crackle over it as spots of it began to glow green.

Glow the same green the mark in his palm was, pulsing a little almost like a heartbeat.

His left palm, the magic within it, flared slightly and he grit his teeth against the pain. “I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it starts now,” Corypheus growled and threw his hand out.

Maxwell let out a grunt of pain as he suddenly felt like knives were being stabbed through is left hand. He grabbed his wrist with his right hand, curling over slightly as he did so, the agony shooting up his arm and to rest in his left temple.

It didn’t help that his left hand was being lifted toward Corypheus and he grit his teeth to prevent from letting out any sounds of pain. He would not give the Templars the satisfaction, he would _not_ give it to Corypheus beyond that one, startled, sound.

“It is your fault _Herald_ ,” Corypheus growled, obviously mocking the title Maxwell had unwilling shouldered, and Maxwell looked up at him.

“You interrupted a ritual _years_ in the planning and, instead of dying, you stole its purpose,” he continued and twisted his hand.

Maxwell felt his left wrist throb in agony as his hand was lifted while twisting so the palm was pointed to his face. He felt sweat breaking out along his neck and forehead, but he gritted his teeth more, shoving back pain and fear.

His legs were shaking with the effort to keep standing from the pain and instead he glared up at Corypheus. “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as _touched_ , what you _flail_ at the Rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens,” Corypheus said as he clenched his hand, as if crushing something in his fist.

Agony like a Rage demon’s fire raced through every nerve in his body and he crashed to his knees, to the ground, his forehead almost hitting the ground of Haven.

He barely managed to prevent that, even as he curled in slightly on himself and somehow, through it all, he did not scream.

The dragon, the undead dragon, the dragon being eaten alive by the red lyrium to become like the red lyrium creature only in dragon form, began to circle around him. It growled and hissed, its voice reminding Maxwell of a Despair demon’s wail.

“And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!” Corypheus snarled and Maxwell continued to pant through his nose, sweat soaking through his robes.

The Anchor, as Corypheus called it, was sparking and spitting angrily as the red magic, Corypheus’ magic, began to dig into it. He gritted his teeth and slowly looked up at Corypheus. “What is this _thing_ meant to do then?” Maxwell snarled out, still needing time, his right hand relaxing from around his left wrist.

_They_ needed time and maybe his companions would get out as well.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would _always_ come for it,” Corypheus responded as he strode over to Maxwell and then promptly hauled Maxwell up by his left arm, clutching to his left wrist.

Maxwell grit his teeth and tensed his muscles slightly just so his shoulder wouldn’t be dislocated. “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire _in person_ ,” Corypheus said to the Anchor.

“I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more,” he continued, lifting Maxwell up until they were at eyelevel.

Maxwell glared as he resisted the urge to snarl at the _thing_ that was, according to Chantry teaching, one of the original Darkspawn. “I have gathered the _will_ to return under no other name than my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this Blighted world,” Corypheus continued to ramble, shaking Maxwell slightly as he did so.

Maxwell just breathed a little harder through his nose as fresh pain skittered through his nerves.

“Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the Gods and _it is empty_ ,” he continued and Maxwell’s eyes narrowed.

“I beg for nothing and to no one,” Maxwell responded and he exhaled sharply as he was _thrown_.

He sailed through the air and grunted slightly as he hit the trebuchet. His head thunked against the wood hard enough to see bright stars of pain every time he blinked and every ache was renewed. He sat there for a few moments, panting quietly as he slowly looked up toward Corypheus, vision swimming slightly.

“The Anchor is _permanent_ ,” Corypheus growled as the dragon began to walk closer to Corypheus, “You have _spoiled it_ with your stumbling.”

Maxwell looked around and saw a sword lying on the trebuchet. He fumbled for it and then stumbled to his feet, having to lean against the trebuchet to counteract his sudden dizziness.

Corypheus laughed at him as the dragon walked around, making that Despiar demon wail at him, jaws with too many teeth wide open.

“So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation, and _God_ , it requires,” he ranted and Maxwell noticed a flare of light, high above Haven.

They were above the tree line then.

“And _you_. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must _die_ ,” he snarled and Maxwell hefted up the sword.

It was unfamiliar in his hands, but he knew how to grip one.

“I didn’t die in the Circle. I won’t die here!” Maxwell shouted and kicked the trebuchet’s release as he dropped the sword.

The trebuchet swung into motion and the stone went flying toward the mountain, the dragon watching it fly. Maxwell only waited long enough to make sure the snow was coming down, that neither were focused on _him_ , before he turned to run, though it was more like a fast paced limp, quickly pulling a Barrier around him as he did so.

The dragon roared at his back, but there was no red lyrium attack, so he just forced himself to continue to move.

He jumped down as the snow crashed behind him, strengthening his barrier around him as he realized that it was a farther fall than he expected.

He crashed into the wood, the Barrier _singing_ around him, a wave of magic pulsing around him.

 It was the that odd, itching, pain that pushed Maxwell off the knife’s edge and into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. It just, ended so _prettily_.
> 
> And yes, most of Corypheus’ dialogue is lifted straight from the game, mostly because I really can’t think up another way for him to say things. And uh, while Maxwell is in serious pain, it is not as serious as it could have been ([see what PT people have said](http://moonrose91.tumblr.com/post/138709354052/gerundsandcoffee-scriptrixdraconum) about what the Inquisitor’s likely injuries are; ow)


	11. In Your Heart Shall Burn Part 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**  
>  \- Near death experience (via hyperthermia)  
> \- Blatant mention of the Chevaliers graduation tradition of going to the alienage in Val Royeux and slaughtering elves  
> \- Emetophobia  
> \- Cole references Maxwell’s trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy, is Maxwell going to wake up in agony (see link in the End Notes of last chapter).
> 
> While he’s not as injured as that, thanks to the Barrier (well, that and Guardian Spirit), he is still fairly injured, I just needed him to…walk, move, able to mostly function on his own.
> 
> Also, some differences from game play. Okay, a major difference. Or two.
> 
> It would be boring if it was exactly the same.
> 
> This will not cover Maxwell becoming Inquisitor, or getting to Skyhold (because he’s running and leading them and I couldn’t figure out how to make that more interesting), just so everyone knows, even though both are technically part of ‘In Your Heart Shall Burn’.

* * *

Maxwell awoke with a sharp gasp and lay still for only a breath before agony _shot_ up his arm, crashing in his left temple. He couldn’t stop himself from curling up and around his left hand, which was _spitting_ green magic. He gasped for air and curled up tight, pressing his forehead to stone.

He shuddered and coughed, bone deep agony running through his body. He panted and began to slowly sit up. He shuddered and looked around, a little amazed he was still alive and unharmed.

He groaned and winced.

Mostly unharmed.

Slowly, carefully, Maxwell got to his feet, panting for breath as he did so. He trembled a little and slowly began to look around.

He was in a cave, surrounded by snow and rocks. He looked up carefully and sighed softly at the sight of either icicles or ice-covered stalactites above him. He wasn’t sure which, but if they were icicles, he couldn't stay.

He let out a quiet grunt as pain, worse than when he had awoken the first time with the Anchor, seared through his left palm, up his arm, and _slammed_ into his left temple.

He slowly looked down at his left hand and sighed at the fact it was still spitting green magic. He reached down and carefully brushed his fingers across his palm, trying to soothe the magic, only for that to make the pain worse.

He couldn’t keep back his cry of pain at that and groaned. “Fantastic,” he gasped out and looked around again, this time for a way out, only to still upon seeing _stairs_.

He blinked a couple of times and huffed as he began to make his way toward them, unsure of where, exactly, he was in Haven.

Was this the how the Warden, Neria Surana, got into the temple, or was this just something else that Haven was built on top of?

He groaned as he began to limp up the stairs, battered and bruised, the cold not helping matters.

He didn’t try to bring up any magic, however. His mana was still recovering from the drain he had put it through to pull off his little _trick_ against the red lyrium monster.

Maxwell paused on occasion as he limped along, deeply regretting the loss of his staff, vaguely admiring the stonework every time he had to lean against it.

Eventually, after what felt like far too long walking, Maxwell saw wood covering the stone, marking out the path he had been walking on the stone. He shivered a little and felt relief almost make him weak-kneed when he saw lit torches lighting up the path around the corner.

They were distant, but they were there, and still burning. That had to mean people were somewhat close.

“Thank the Fade,” he whispered and began to push himself a little faster toward the torches.

He stopped dead when demons, two Despair and what seemed to be two wraiths appeared. “Void take it!” he exclaimed and drew back when fresh agony raced up his arm.

He let out a scream of pain at that, unable to stop it and his hand almost seemed to lift on its own. He let out a shout which made his throat ache and his eyes widened when he looked up to see what seemed to be a Rift, only it was _pulling_ the demons in. He gritted his teeth against the pain dancing like lightning across his nerves and he panted for breath when it ended, the demons gone.

He looked around, still panting for breath, cradling his left arm to his chest. His palm was still glowing, far more than it had since he had awoken with it and he looked around.

“I…I can live with this,” he whispered softly and shivered a little.

He hesitated and then continued toward the lit torches, until he was outside. He shivered violently as the cold and snow hit him full force and he let out a sharp sound.

The _mines_! He had been in a lower level of the old _mining complex_.

He shivered a little more and straightened slightly when he saw fire. He began to move through the snow, lifting his right hand up to block some of the snow from going directly into his eyes.

His left hand hurt too much to move, even though it was just hanging limp at his side.

His heart fell when the fire slowly died and he discovered it was merely the remains of a cart that had likely been set on fire by one of the invading forces. Or the dragon.

He exhaled and considered before he began to slowly trudge through the snow, right hand still raised.

It was slow going and it was exhausting as he continued to make his way through the blinding snow. He eventually had to _carefully_ switch to his left hand in hopes that the Anchor could light the way, but it was useless. The snow was flying too thickly around and he was gasping by the time he could, barely, make out some trees.

He could hear a wolf, or wolves, howling and he tried to pick up the pace, eyeing the trees that swayed slightly with the force of the wind.

He was a little surprised he wasn’t being blown off his feet with the force of it and he stilled upon seeing a shape close to a tree. He began to pick up speed, expending the last of his energy to reach the fire-pit, collapsing to his knees when he reached it.

He let out a sharp sound when it was cold.

“Cold,” he whispered and looked up slowly, not really feeling the snow sinking into his legs.

He shivered a little more and startled when he heard something.

He was about to call up his magic as a dark form began to walk out of the trees only to startle when the Bog Unicorn, Valor, came into sight, though without any tack meaning they had managed to remove the tack stuck on him when they received him. Maxwell stared at the Bog Unicorn, who only stepped closer and, carefully, nudged that skin covered bone nose against his forehead.

“How did you find me?” he croaked out, only for Valor to snort at him before he looked toward the trees he had come from.

Maxwell followed the undead gaze and startled as the Red Hart stepped out of the trees, shaking hard to remove most the snow from his coat. “Who followed who?” Maxwell asked, but neither answered him.

Instead, the Red Hart moved over to him and began to, slowly, kneel on the snow in a way that would allow Maxwell to pull himself onto the Hart’s back. He hesitated before he carefully pulled himself onto the Red Hart’s back, clinging as the Red Hart began to slowly get up.

The Red Hart snorted and Valor looked toward Maxwell. “You don’t know where they are, do you?” he asked and was only a little surprised when Valor made an obvious side to side gesture that meant ‘no’.

Maxwell looked around and then lifted his hand, pointing. “I’ve been going that way. Might as well keep going,” he said and twitched when he heard the wolf again.

The Red Hart snorted and tossed his head while the Bog Unicorn gave an obvious nod.

Only then did they begin to move through the snow.

Even with their large size, and the fact they seemed to have a slightly easier time going through the snow, they were as slow as Maxwell had been.

Maxwell just focused on holding onto the Red Hart as best he could, shivering violently.

* * *

The snow, and wind, had died down as they continued to make their way up the mountain, the wolf, it could only be one, still howling around them. Maxwell shivered even more as he buried his fingers into the Red Hart’s fur, the Hart not even twitching at the touch.

Maxwell slowly looked around for any sign of people when he saw a fire-pit. “There! I need…there, in hopes of seeing how close we are to them,” he explained and the Red Hart, who Maxwell needed to name, began to walk in that direction.

Valor moved as well and stood close enough that he could help Maxwell as he dismounted.

He shivered a little and stumbled into the snow, and let out a relieved laugh. “It is warm, and there are embers. We’re almost there,” he chattered out and the Red Hart lowered himself down next to Maxwell again so Maxwell could get back on his back.

He nearly fell off the hart’s back when the hart stood back up and Valor snorted quietly before he focused forward, leading the way. They moved through the snow and Valor gave a low snort as Maxwell slowly looked up, exhaling sharply in relief, trembling when he saw the distant lights that could only be the survivors of Haven.

“Is that…it is! It’s the Herald!” Maxwell heard someone shout.

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra added and he could hear running as he curled over the Red Hart’s neck in relief.

* * *

Maxwell lay on the cot in a section of the healing tents that was mostly empty, eyes closed in hopes that pretending to sleep would help him actually fall asleep. The Red Hart, who he was tempted to name after a constellation at this point, was lying next to him, likely dozing.

It was more than Maxwell could do as he listened to the advisers, and Cassandra, arguing.

He exhaled slowly and began to carefully sit up as Josephine tried to be the voice of reason. Which, considering it was Cullen and Cassandra arguing, did not bode well for her.

He ignored his various aches and pains as he leaned heavily on his left arm so he could stay somewhat upright.

There the four of them were, around the fire, stressed and sharp and biting. Four voices arguing amongst themselves and he resisted the urge to sigh at the sight.

Maxwell almost startled when Mother Giselle turned to him. “Shh, you need rest,” she said quietly and Maxwell gave her a flat look.

“So do they. They’ve been doing this for hours in a constant spiral that always ends with them not coming to any conclusion, or compromise, and storming away from each other,” Maxwell responded quietly.

Mother Giselle sighed quietly at that and looked back toward where they had stopped arguing again. It would start up again in a few minutes, though none of them seemed to have realized he was awake.

“They have the time to do so, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow and, with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting might be far more of a threat to the Inquisition than this Corypheus is,” Mother Giselle responded.

Maxwell gave a tired sigh at that and nodded a little. “Infighting always is the greatest threat. I would go over there, but that seems like a poor decision,” he responded quietly at that and the Red Hart gave a quiet snort at that.

“It would be. They are struggling because of what we, the survivors, witnessed. We saw our defender stand and fall. And now, we have seen him returned,” Mother Giselle answered and Maxwell gave a sharp sound as he began to slowly sit up on the cot, feet on the ground.

"I did not die and come back to life! I escaped the avalanche. Barely and with a great deal of luck, but that is all," Maxwell argued quietly as he trembled on the cot.

Mother Giselle sighed quietly and looked at him. “Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the Veil. The people know what they saw, or, perhaps, what they _needed_ to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered," she responded and Maxwell felt his eyes narrowing slightly, tugging at his scars.

"The more the enemy is behind us, the more miraculous your actions appear, and the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What “we” have been called to endure? What “we”, perhaps, must come to believe?” she continued softly and he stared at her, knowing his gaze was hardening as his mouth thinned into a sharp line, yanking at his scars.

He could feel them ache, almost throb, now.

“I don’t believe in the Maker,” Maxwell said in a forceful, though quiet, voice.

“I know you do not, but many here _do_. And sometimes all that sustains people is their faith in something beyond themselves,” Mother Giselle responded softly.

Maxwell frowned sharply at that and then stood up far too quickly, hoping to escape this conversation. He ignored how it made him dizzy and instead focused on limping over to a pole driven deep into the ground to keep the tent up. He leaned on it, carefully, as his vision slowly stopped swimming, to find himself looking at Josephine and Leliana.

He knew they both had faith still, through all of this. And in a way, he had too, for far too many years. He knew what Mother Giselle was speaking about, about how faith was sometimes all someone had.

He just didn’t believe in the Maker. He _couldn’t_. How could he have faith in someone who abandoned Thedas _twice_?

He felt his breath freeze in his chest as he started to hear Mother Giselle sing ‘The Dawn Will Come’.

He looked toward her as she walked up to stand next to him and Maxwell slowly stood up straight, feeling his heart start to pound as his mouth dried.

He knew what she was doing. He knew _exactly_ what she was doing, invoking that. That hymn, _those words_ , while standing next to him.

Most of the people here were Andrastian, most would know it.

If he could _move_ , he would walk away.

As another female voice began to join in, Maxwell focused out to see that it was _Leliana_ who was singing.

Soon, everyone awake was joining in, drawn to where he was. He swallowed hard at that, watching as they slowly began to show him reverence that seemed to rival Andraste’s. He trembled slightly, knowing exactly why he was, unable to blame the cold, and by the end of hymn, the only reason Maxwell was still there was because he _couldn’t_ run, not without taking their hope.

He mentally cursed Mother Giselle and looked toward her sharply when she began to speak. “An army needs more than an enemy; it needs a cause,” she said quietly as she walked away.

His response stuck in his chest, rattled in his brain, about how he knew that already.

He had _suffered_ under a portion of that _army_ for over a _decade_!

“A word?” Solas questioned as he walked past and Maxwell didn’t hesitate to follow Solas with a great sense of relief that nearly made his legs collapse out from under him.

They walked until they were a fair distance from the camp and Solas light the torch with Veilfire almost casually. Maxwell managed to keep himself from making a comment about that and instead walked closer.

“She is a wise woman, worth heeding. She is one who understands the moments that unify a cause, or fracture it,” Solas said.

“I am not a chosen one! I was not delivered out of the Fade by Andraste herself, was not chosen to live by some divine being that does not exist, and I am _not_ some prophet or herald or _pseudo-god_ to be worshiped! I am-” Maxwell argued quietly before he cut himself off with a sharp sigh.

He had not been just _him_ in too many long years. He doubted he could find himself under all the titles he had been forced to carry since the day after his eighteenth birthday.

There was silence, however, and Maxwell looked over in time to see Solas go from staring at him in some strange fashion to how he usually looked, which was distant and unmoving, like a mountain stabbing into the sky. “The orb that Corypheus carried, the power he used against you, is Elven. He must have used it to create the Breach and opening it is what likely caused the explosion at the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived, nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb’s origin,” Solas said.

It was likely the reason he had pulled Maxwell so far from the camp.

“Poorly. They will react very poorly. Elves, Dalish and City alike, are easy targets for people to attack, _especially_ in confusing situations such as this one,” Maxwell supplied quietly.

One of the Elf Tranquil, Delva, once told him about how she discovered as being a Mage, as she had lived in Orlais before she had come to Ostwick’s Circle. She had lived in the Val Royeux alienage and her mother had been out after dark when the recently graduated Chevaliers rode through. She had run out to protect her mother, fire in her hands. The fact she mentioned that she hadn't before had made Maxwell burn with fury and want to retch all at once.

“History would agree. But there are steps we can take to prevent such a distraction,” Solas responded and Maxwell felt his eyebrows lift slightly at that.

 “What steps?” Maxwell asked.

Solas tilted his head slightly, hiding his eyes slightly, before he looked back up at Maxwell. It was the only tell the man had, Maxwell was sure of it, he just didn’t know what it was a tell _for_.

“By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it, changed _you_ ,” Solas stated.

“He is not the first,” Maxwell responded quietly before he looked away from Solas.

There was silence before Maxwell looked back over to Solas. “I’m sorry. I had not meant to interrupt,” he said softly.

“It is alright. You will need to scout to the north, be their guide. There, in the mountains, is a place that waits for a force to hold it. It is a place where the Inquisition can build…grow,” Solas stated and stopped.

“How do you know it is there?” Maxwell asked quietly, already having a feeling he would know the answer.

“I found it once, while crossing these mountains, I slept there,” Solas answered and Maxwell blinked quickly a few times in a row at that.

“Then I know it will be safe. When should I start…guiding them?” Maxwell asked, unable to keep his distaste from showing over having to guide them.

Especially after hearing that Chantry hymn.

“Not till you are able to move without being obviously in pain. It will not help,” Solas answered and Maxwell resisted the urge to laugh.

He could do that _now_ , if it was needed, and he nodded. “Alright. I don’t particularly _like_ this. Everyone is going to say that Andraste guided me or the Maker guided me. I don’t know which is worse,” Maxwell responded.

Solas inclined his head slightly and Maxwell considered before he glanced back to the camp. “I would go back, but I don’t particularly desire to be worshiped,” Maxwell said softly.

Solas gave a small nod and began to walk back to the camp. Maxwell sighed quietly and looked back out into the darkness.

He didn’t twitch when Cole was standing next to him between one heartbeat and the next.

“Hello, Cole,” he greeted quietly.

“He is gone, Roderick. He was glad to hear the hymn, though. It was one of his favorites. He was sorry, before the end, for how he treated you,” Cole responded and Maxwell looked over at him.

“I can understand it. Too late to give forgiveness. I should remember that next time,” Maxwell answered quietly.

“I don’t think he would have been able to accept it, if you had said it. It might have hurt him, or hurt you. He hurt you, though, but you hid it. You always hurt and you always hide it. I don’t think I can help with it. You don’t like it when people just kill their problems away. You see it as a waste of life. You’re tired of it,” Cole continued and Maxwell reached out to gently tug the hat down over Cole’s eyes.

“I am very tired of pointless death, yes. Please stop,” Maxwell said.

“I’m sorry,” Cole answered.

“It is alright. You’re just doing what is natural to you. My head is just not a nice place to be,” Maxwell responded softly.

Cole pushed his hat back slightly as he looked up at Maxwell. He blinked a couple of times, big ice blue eyes staring up at Maxwell from under a brim of his hat. “Your head is nice. You’ve just been hurt, are hurting, will hurt for a long time. You’re still bound in chains and you think the only way to get free would to be to cut more of yourself apart. You wouldn’t survive that,” he said quietly.

Maxwell sighed at that and waved his hand to send the Veilfire back into memory. “And this?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know. It hurts you. You don’t want to be worshiped, or feared. You just want to be you, but you haven’t been you in a long time. Don’t worry, I’ll help you remember,” Cole said and he was then gone.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow and shook his head a little. He almost brought back the Veilfire when Valor walked out of the night, close enough for Maxwell to see.

“Alright, I'm going back to the tent,” Maxwell said as he began to limp his way back to the tent, Valor only following him long enough to make sure he got there safely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the Mounts. I _really_ like the Mounts. There needs to be more Inquisitor and Mount bonding.
> 
> This kinda feeds into one of my headcanons regarding Dracolisks and Harts, which is they are like Mabari. They bond with one person and if you are not that person? Do not attempt to get on their back. (Some of the horses are like this too, but in a more…traditional manner of it or because it is their personality.)
> 
> You may have noticed that, while I did not write in the lyrics, the song stayed. I know why it is in there, and what Mother Giselle is doing. She’s leveraging the Herald (whether they want it or not) into being a beacon of hope to unite them. The song is a Chantry hymm (Link to Song; [Game](https://youtu.be/Ffb3QiOGDeI), [OST](https://youtu.be/qq8ZcIfLDUo)) and she picks it specifically while standing next to the Herald, drawing attention to them, drawing them to associate the song with the Herald.
> 
> And yes a lot of Mother Giselle's dialogue is lifted from the game directly. It is sometimes difficult to get the meaning across when I change the words, so sometimes I didn't try.
> 
> Also, eventually, you’ll see a series tag on this. Here is the [link](http://moonrose91.tumblr.com/post/152193608597/moonrose91-okay-so-i-have-not-written-any) to the Tumblr post regarding it. (Series set-up subject to change)


	12. Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**  
>  \- Flashbacks mentioned  
> \- Maxwell forced to accept a position that, while he was willing to accept it, he is being _forced_ to accept it.  
>  \- Sensory PTSD flashback (those are _fun_ , by the way, and I mean that in the sarcastic fun)  
> \- A minor disassociation (I think) episode (Maxwell doesn’t entirely remember how he came to be seated in an out of the way place)  
> \- Panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to try and do something with travel.
> 
> It didn’t work. (Which is why it wasn’t up on Halloween which makes me a tad sad, since I wanted it to be that. Oh well.)
> 
> This chapter _was_ going to explain how the Mounts survived, but since I couldn’t make it work; Horsemaster Dennet is just that good and soldiers were with the mounts to help protect them in the first place, so they just had to move them quickly.
> 
> Because I was not gonna have Temperance die. Maxwell doesn’t need more trauma.
> 
> Also, in this chapter, Solas is being nice. (I, apparently, have no idea how to have Maxwell _not_ make friends, even when I attempt it)

* * *

Maxwell had been very thankful for Skyhold, and very impressed when he had seen it after a very long week of hiking through the snow. It had struck him as…strange, however. While the mountains were _covered_ in snow, Skyhold was untouched by it, from the archway of the bridge to the tops of the towers.

As if something was holding Skyhold in a gentle spring, and stepping into the courtyard always sent a thrum through him from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. An almost warm curling thing, as if Skyhold itself was trying to gain an opinion on him.

It was a comfort after a night in a small stone room where every time he heard someone walk past his room, which was fairly often as he was situated in the tower by the _gate_ , he was wide awake, heart pounding, not in Skyhold but the Ostwick Circle. It would take too long for him to relax enough to go back to sleep and then it repeated.

He had barely gotten any sleep since arriving at Skyhold a week ago, even though the Spirit of Hope he had befriended when a young child at Ostwick’s Circle had returned to him. He had only gained a _better_ night’s sleep, not that it meant much, when someone, likely Cole, had laid a small Embrium bloom on his pillow last night.

It reminded Maxwell of the Embrium grown in the Ostwick Circle garden, close to where he and Frederick had hidden to have very few, very _chaste_ , moments. It was a comfort still, the memories untainted even after Frederick had, illegally, been made Tranquil.

Even though it was because of Maxwell.

He exhaled slowly and resisted the urge to go back into his room when he heard his name called by Cassandra. He looked up with a small smile which felt false on his face and he began to walk toward them. His mood didn’t improve when he saw the advisors all leave before he even reached them, putting him so he was alone with Cassandra.

“They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage,” she stated when Maxwell drew close.

“Of course it is,” Maxwell responded simply, deciding not to rail against it.

He had to pick his battles and his nerves were already raw enough from the rarity of sleep on top of his flashbacks. This close to Cassandra, and alone with her, his shoulders had dropped automatically. He internally screamed when he realized his head had dropped as well as she silently commanded him to follow her.

“If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One,” she said as she began to walk up the stairs and Maxwell followed her on old instinct that he hadn’t unlearned yet.

He was mostly just focused on watching her movements, only a little relieved that she didn’t have a sword with her. “We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond what we anticipated,” she continued and Maxwell continued to follow.

“But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you,” she stated as she came to a stop, turning to face him.

“I don’t know about the first part, but the second was the Anchor. As the Anchor is now useless to him, he wants me dead,” Maxwell responded and Cassandra gave a quiet scoff.

“While the Anchor has power, it is not why you are still standing here,” Cassandra argued and began to walk again, Maxwell immediately following after her.

“Your decisions lead us heal the sky, your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature’s rival because of what _you_ did, and we know it. All of us,” she explained as she began to climb the stairs, Maxwell slowing ever so slightly at her words.

What did she mean by-

Maxwell’s thoughts were cut off as they reached the platform to see Leliana holding out a large sword toward him. “The Inquisition requires a leader. The one who has already _been_ leading it,” Cassandra stated as Leliana strode forward, holding the sword out a little more toward him.

He looked to the right and a sick feeling curled in his stomach and up into the back of his throat. There was a taste in his mouth that makes him want to gag a little, but he swallows it back.

He can see the people easily down below, the people who look up at him, _revere_ him. The people who have laid their hope on his shoulders, and that is a heavy thing to carry, for such a fragile thing.

“You,” Cassandra stated and Maxwell slowly looked back at Cassandra and Leliana.

The sick feeling grows and he wonders if he has gone pale. He hopes not.

“Yes, of course. I am honored,” Maxwell responded and the words taste like ash and worse in his mouth.

He is shocked he doesn’t choke on them, but he suspects over a decade of practice helps.

“I hope you will not let me come to regret this,” Cassandra said in an undertone.

“If you aren’t sure, why are you offering this position to me?” Maxwell asked quietly.

Why were they _forcing him_ into this?

“Because I believe what this was meant to be,” Cassandra said as she stepped to the side, allowing Leliana to step up to him fully, offering him the sword hilt first.

“That without you, there would be no Inquisition, but how you lead us, that is for you alone to decide,” she said and Maxwell swallowed back more sick, more ill feeling twisting in his stomach.

They had already decided _for him_.

He would have done it, if asked, but no. They had tricked him, twisted him around, and then held him at knifepoint in front of the people who would be _shattered_ if he turned it down so he would forever say _yes_.

Maxwell accepted the sword, almost wanting to laugh, because he had thought he had escaped this, could unlearn everything he had learned over _twelve years_ and he wanted to be sick.

He is almost sure the reason he doesn’t break down into hysterical laughter is due to the fact he can barely breathe through the vice around his chest.

“Corypheus intends to rule over Thedas by making himself into some twisted interpretation of a _god_. I will not allow this. Corypheus _will_ be stopped,” Maxwell announced, loudly, shocked he managed it.

He would do the duty of the Inquisition, and he would then _leave_. Pass the title onto someone else, and go back to his apostate village with his sister and the half-mad Spirit Healer who light the spark that allowed them to escape.

“Wherever you lead us,” Cassandra said as Maxwell turned with her to face the people once more.

“Have our people been told?” Cassandra bellowed out.

“They have, and soon, the world,” Josephine answered.

“Commander, will they follow?” Cassandra shouted.

Cullen immediately turned to the people. “Inquisition, will you follow?” he asked and the roaring ‘aye’ made Maxwell’s grip on the sword tighten slightly.

“Will you fight?” Cullen asked and the answering ‘aye’ still roaring, still _loud_ , made the constriction around his chest tighten.

“Will we triumph?” Cullen asked and the rousing cheer was barely understandable as a positive answer.

“Your leader, your Herald, your _Inquisitor_ ,” Cullen shouted, drawing his sword as he turned to point it up at Maxwell.

Maxwell tensed at that, unable to stop himself. It was a breath, possibly two, before he managed to lift his own sword toward the sky, causing the cheering to increase.

He could barely breathe and all he wanted to do was to _run_.

* * *

Maxwell isn’t sure how much longer he can hold it together.

He knows he needs to hold it together, meet with Hawke, but right now he knows he’s barely holding it together. Barely, _barely_ , able to keep from collapsing in the middle of the _entry hall_ , and he made his way toward where he _thinks_ the Atrium is, hoping that there is a way to hide there.

He steps into the rotunda and Solas seemed to have already settled there. Maxwell can feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest and he tensed when cool fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Inquisitor,” Solas greeted quietly and Maxwell suddenly found himself in a shadowed alcove, seated on the stone floor.

His breathing was thready and uneven, too sharp and thin. He doesn’t entirely remember how he got into this position, and hand is being pressed to another’s chest, following a very particular breathing pattern. “In, one, two, three, four, five, out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” a calm voice recited and Maxwell felt himself following it, even as he choked on his breaths on occasion.

When Maxwell could finally, _finally_ , get his breathing under control, though he was still shaking like a leaf, he realized that it was Solas crouched in front of him. “I am going to guess the stone is not helping,” he said quietly.

“Not particularly,” Maxwell answered and Solas nodded before he slowly stood, then pushed open a door.

It stuck slightly, but it opened and Solas tilted his head slightly.

Maxwell couldn’t truly move fast enough to get out and was surprised to find him on a battlement. It was high above and no one was looking up, too focused on their work to do so. He trembled slightly and slowly sat back down, curling back down out of sight. “I think I am going to be sick,” Maxwell whispered.

“I highly advise trying to wait until you have access to a pail,” Solas said quietly and Maxwell gave a quiet laugh at that.

It cracked in the middle however, and he quickly fell silent as he continued to tremble.

The wind helped, the smell of something that seemed to just be Skyhold helped.

The stone did not, however.

They sat in silence for a time, before Solas cleared his throat slightly. “Did I ever tell you about when I slept in a ruin so overgrown I hadn’t even realized it was a ruin?” he asked.

“I don’t think you have ever gotten around to that,” Maxwell responded and Solas cleared his throat again before he began to tell Maxwell about it.

Solas wasn’t a storyteller by nature. He was a scholar and it showed in what he chose to embellish, but it helped Maxwell calm down.

He had a feeling that was Solas’ purpose behind telling him about the incident at all.

“Thank you,” Maxwell said quietly and Solas gave a short nod.

“You’re welcome,” he answered quietly.

It was a few more moments before Maxwell was collected enough to continue being Inquisitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, being forced into accepting a position, even if it is one he would have willingly taken on, is about as good for Maxwell’s mental health as expected.
> 
> Which is to say _not at all_.
> 
> And yes, a lot of the dialogue is lifted straight from the game. I was just…not going to figure out a new way to do that.
> 
> The Companion Conversations will, eventually, be posted in the Untitled Collection of One-Shots for Martyr, which, timeline wise, technically take place during the week that they were at Skyhold before Maxwell is made Inquisitor, with a couple of exceptions.
> 
> Blackwall’s ‘walk the battlements’ portion, and Iron Bull’s giving you a couple of people to ‘know’ in the ranks.
> 
> Maxwell, in the game (and no I did not _cheat_ and rig it), has befriended a _shocking_ amount of people.


	13. Confrontations and Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> \- Maxwell’s unhealthy coping mechanisms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So according to the Dragon Age timeline on the Wiki, the war didn’t start till 3 years after Anders blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall.
> 
> I looked at that, promptly declared “bullshit” and rewrote that. I am going to say it didn’t _officially_ start till then. Before then, yeah. They just said the Circles “rebelled” when it was either Mages reacting to Templars trying to slaughter them all, or actually acting first. It was likely usually that first one.
> 
> Also, Hope Hawke does _not_ like Cullen.

* * *

Maxwell left Solas to go find Varric and his friend on the wall the moment he no longer felt like he would fall apart if he tried.

He was sure, when he had more energy, more _anything_ , he would be embarrassed by what had happened. That he had collapsed so fully in front of someone that he was, technically, leading.

He exhaled softly and slowly began to make his way toward where he could see Varric, quietly packing away all of that in the back of his mind to deal with _later_. He was careful as he walked up and, eventually, he stood next to Varric, carefully leaning back against the stone wall.

“Varric,” he greeted quietly.

“Aegis,” Varric responded and Maxwell huffed, looking up when he heard a door open.

The woman was tall and broad-shouldered, hair in black braid over her shoulder, staff strapped to her back, with warm golden brown skin that was almost a match for Maxwell’s own. Behind her was a surprisingly tall Elf with dark brown skin and white hair, with what looked like _lyrium_ running through his skin. “Meet Hope Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, and Fenris, apparently. I thought you were staying behind, Broody,” Varric continued.

“Why would I stay behind?” Fenris responded, even as Hope shook her head slightly.

“I don’t go by that title anymore. And he wouldn’t stay behind,” Hope answered and Fenris gave a sharp exhale at that, crossing his arms.

Varric chuckled at that and waved a hand at Maxwell. “Waffles, meet Aegis, also known as Maxwell Trevelyan. _Inquisitor_ Maxwell Trevelyan, now. Well, at least it isn’t Cassandra,” he introduced and Maxwell gave a snort as Hope sighed heavily.

“Yes, at least. She would throw you into a jail cell for this alone,” Maxwell answered and Varric glanced at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll live up to my nickname,” he reassured and Varric huffed a small laugh at that.

“So, Waffles, I figured you would have some friendly advice about Corypheus for Aegis. We did fight him, after all,” Varric offered and stepped away from them, likely waving at Fenris to invite him over.

Fenris focused on Hope and she waved at him as she walked up to lean on the wall next to Maxwell. “I used to have a view like this at home. I could step out on my balcony and see all of Kirkwall,” Hope said quietly as Fenris walked over to Varric.

Maxwell slowly turned around so he could look out over Skyhold instead of staring at Fenris and Varric, still leaning against the wall. “I loved it, at first,” she continued quietly.

“But then it became too much,” Maxwell supplied softly and she looked over at him.

“I knew something about that before I ever became their _Herald_. Or the Inquisitor,” he offered quietly.

“Don’t like the title?” Hope asked with a small smile.

“Herald? Not in the slightest. I don’t believe in the Maker and I wasn’t delivered out of the Fade by Andraste. I’m not the Herald of anything, and I’m a little relieved it has been replaced by Inquisitor,” Maxwell answered.

He wasn’t relieved in the slightest, though only due to _how_ he had received the title over anything else.

His chest was constricting again.

Hope gave a soft sound at that and slowly stood up, prompting Maxwell to do the same. “I don’t envy your position, but I can, hopefully, help you Corypheus,” Hope stated and Maxwell nodded.

“You’re the only one, beyond Varric and Ser Fenris that have fought him before,” Maxwell responded.

“Ser?” Fenris questioned.

“Just go with it. Sometimes Aegis’ noble blood shows through,” Varric responded.

Maxwell resisted the urge to sigh and Hope looked over at the pair of them with a pointed look. “Well, fought and _killed_ him. The Grey Wardens had him locked away and, somehow, he used his connection with the Darkspawn to influence them,” she said and Maxwell frowned at that.

“I would ask Blackwall, but what I know of Grey Wardens, he wouldn’t tell me,” Maxwell said.

There was also a _chance_ that Blackwall wasn’t actually who he said he was and the less Maxwell pressed about Grey Wardens, the less he would have to look away. “Their damned secrecy,” Hope muttered and Maxwell nodded in agreement.

“He messed with their minds, turned them against each other,” Varric supplied and Maxwell frowned sharply at that.

“So, if the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again,” Hope said and looked toward Maxwell.

“Of course. Demons, a darkspawn Magister, missing Wardens. There’s likely blood magic involved somewhere as well,” Fenris said.

“Most likely,” Maxwell agreed calmly and Hope shot a glance at him.

Maxwell ignored it and sighed quietly. “ _If_ Corypheus has taken control of the Wardens again, is there a way to break that control?” he asked and Hope gave a small shrug.

“I’m honestly unsure. I have a friend in the Wardens who may be able to help us with that, as he was researching something else for me. When we last spoke, he said he was concerned about corruption in the ranks, but I haven’t heard anything from him since,” Hope explained.

“Corypheus would definitely qualify. Did he disappear with them?” Varric responded.

“No. He’s hiding in an old smuggler’s cave, in Crestwood,” Hope answered and Maxwell gave a small nod at that.

“Does your friend have a name?” he asked and Hope hesitated.

“Loghain,” Fenris supplied and Maxwell blinked.

“Does he want a job as Commander of the Inquisition?” Maxwell asked and Hope let out a sharp laugh.

“What?” Hope responded.

“We need a better commander. One with real battlefield experience. An experienced general would be an asset, truly,” Maxwell stated.

Fenris gave a quiet huff and crossed his arms again. “Who is your Commander now?” Fenris asked.

“Cullen Rutherford,” Maxwell answered and all trace of surprise was gone from Hope’s face in an instant.

“What?” she asked in a flat tone of voice.

“Knight-Captain Rutherford. He insists he’s not anymore. He doesn’t act it. And his vambraces are still those of Templar. Seeker Pentaghast recruited him out of Kirkwall,” Maxwell explained and Hope looked at Varric.

“Yeah, he’s here,” Varric said and Hope’s jaw twitched, as if she was gritting her teeth.

Maxwell settled against the wall and Hope seemed to be forcing herself to breathe calmly. “You can’t kill him,” Fenris stated and Hope let out a sharp sound in the back of her throat.

Varric sighed at that. “I would have warned you, Waffles, but I was trying _not_ to reveal where you were,” he said quietly and Hope nodded sharply.

It was a few long moments before she seemed calm enough to continue speaking. “What was Ser Loghain researching for you?” Maxwell asked.

“Red lyrium. I was hoping the Wardens may have run into it in the past,” Hope answered and Maxwell sighed quietly at that.

“It has been popping up. Literally. Corypheus’ Templars seemed to be ingesting it now, and there was a vein of it in the Hinterlands. An old cave complex, specifically,” Maxwell said with a sharp frown.

“Thanks for shattering that by the way,” Varric said and Maxwell inclined his head slightly.

“Right, well, I’m going to go see if I can find a place to go hide from Cassandra until she calms down, if that’s even possible. Come find me to say good-bye, Waffles,” Varric said and began to walk off.

“She’ll likely calm down right after she attempts to strangle him,” Maxwell muttered.

“Really?” Hope inquired.

“She threatened to kill me when she thought I was the cause of the Conclave explosion. It took me stabilizing the Breach, and constantly doing good, to even garner enough trust for her to look away from me for more than two seconds,” Maxwell explained, deciding not to comment he was used to that close of scrutiny.

He shifted slightly and exhaled quietly. “Thank you for your help,” he said as he slowly began to stand up straight.

“It wasn’t much. Besides, Corypheus is my responsibility,” Hope responded and Maxwell gave a small incline of his head at that.

He then stretched and slowly began to make his way to the staircase. “I should go follow after Varric, to keep Cassandra from killing him,” he said quietly.

He then paused and turned back to them with a small smile. “Sorry. If you’re staying for at least the night, speak with Josephine. Through the door that is right before the one off the side of the throne on the left when entering the castle. Or fortress. Not entirely sure what it would be called, but either way, you’ll then go through the second door. She’ll be able to place you somewhere for the night, even if we are still short on space. We’ve only been here for a week,” he said and frowned slightly.

He would warn Dorian as quickly as he could, but Fenris deserved to have a warning when he could be granted one.

Maxwell stepped back down so he was on even ground with them and turned to face them. “I should likely give you a rundown of everyone here. Beyond Cassandra, Cullen, Blackwall, and Varric. Leliana is our Spymaster and Lady Josephine Montilyet as our Ambassador. She’s Antivian with an Orlesian influence. We have a Qunari spy named The Iron Bull, Sera, a Red Jenny who is likely to prank you, Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard, leader of the last loyal mages, Cole, a spirit who has the form of a young man. He’s not possessing anyone, he’s just that way. And Altus Dorian Pavus, of House Pavus,” he explained calmly, not rushing over anything.

Fenris tensed slightly at that and Hope gave a small nod. Maxwell murmured a quick ‘good-bye’ and then turned, going up the stairs to find Varric.

* * *

Finding Varric wasn’t that hard, he just had to follow the trail of terrified scouts and soldiers.

He could hear the clattering of things being shoved and rushed as quickly as he could up the stairs of the armory. “You knew where Hawke was all along!” Cassandra shouted.

“You’re damned right I did!” Varric shouted right back and Maxwell _moved_.

“You conniving little shit!” Cassandra snarled as Maxwell got to the top of the stairs, ignoring how much his right ankle hurt.

“You kidnapped me! You interrogated me! What did you expect?” Varric demanded.

“Enough!” Maxwell shouted as he stepped forward, making sure to keep himself between Varric and Cassandra, right hand lifted, splayed out toward Cassandra.

He was shocked he was able to stand, something tight curling around his ribs.

“You’re taking _his_ side?” Cassandra demanded.

“I said _enough_!” Maxwell snapped, letting some Storm magic start to crackle between his fingers.

Cassandra’s face twisted into a scowl. “We needed someone to lead the Inquisition,” she argued.

“First, Leliana and I searched for Warden-Commander Neria Surana, but she had vanished. Then, we looked for Champion Hope Hawke, but she had also vanished. We thought it was connected, but no. It was just _you_ ,” she continued and Maxwell shifted to keep himself as a shield between Cassandra and Varric.

“ _You_ kept her from us!” she snarled.

“The Inquisition _has_ a leader! And a damn fine one!” Varric argued.

“Hawke would have been at the Conclave! If anyone could have saved Most Holy…” Cassandra responded.

“Cassandra, knock it off! Until we know what really happened up there, in full detail, there is no possible way we could know if Champion Hawke being in attendance would have changed _anything_ ,” Maxwell said in his Enchanter voice, pushing back his terror over interrupting her.

He couldn’t deal with that right now.

“I was protecting my friend!” Varric added, breathing a little hard under his words.

“Varric is a liar, Inquisitor. A _snake_ ,” Cassandra said, stepping closer and Maxwell made himself stand up straighter, lift his head even as it made his heart pound.

He did dispel his magic though, Casandra too close for him to risk _accidentally_ injuring her when he didn’t intend to. “Even after the Conclave, when we needed her most, he kept _silent_!” Cassandra finished with a low snarl.

“She’s here now! We’re on the same side!” Varric snapped.

“We all know whose side you’re on Varric, and it will _never_ be the Inquisition’s,” Cassandra said.

“ _Enough_ Cassandra!” Maxwell said, still in his Enchanter voice. “Varric did what he thought was best, and I happen to agree with him. If I had a friend who was at the start of all of this, I wouldn’t have revealed their location until I was _sure_ they wouldn’t be, at best, arrested, and at worst, executed, for it.”

“Exactly,” Varric said and Maxwell turned away from Cassandra enough to give Varric a flat look.

He was not helping and Varric gave a flat look in return as Maxwell focused back on Cassandra.

“I cannot believe you are taking his side in this,” Cassandra growled as she turned away from them sharply.

Maxwell gave a toss of his head toward the stairway as he moved toward Cassandra, so he was between Cassandra and the stairs. “I cannot think on what could have been, with so much at stake,” she said quietly and Maxwell bit back his sigh at that.

He really didn’t want to hear Cassandra’s ‘I could have done better’ berating that seemed to be only lip service.

“You know, Seeker, if Hope had been at the Conclave, she would be dead too, and you people have done _enough_ to her,” Varric said firmly, though his voice went sharp and protective at the end.

There was silence for a moment and Cassandra lowered her head slightly. “I…believed him. He spun his story and I accepted it without hesitation. If I had just _explained_ why Hawke was so badly needed, he might have _told me_ where she was,” Cassandra bemoaned as she turned to cross over closer to the window.

Maxwell slowly followed her and sat down on a bench, much too close to her for his comfort.

It made his heart pound hard enough in his chest he was about to swear that it would leave bruises there.

“I am such a fool,” she said and Maxwell exhaled slowly at that.

“What would have been different, if Champion Hawke could have come here?” Maxwell asked quietly.

“I am honestly not sure. She may not have even agreed to become Inquisitor,” Cassandra answered and Maxwell bit his tongue to comment that didn’t seem to be a problem for them.

They could have easily maneuvered Hope into the same position Maxwell himself had been. Made to say ‘yes’ or so utterly shatter morale that there would be no way that they could continue and be a true threat against Corypheus, falling apart without something to pull them together.

“She supported the Mage Rebellion, after all,” she continued obviously oblivious to the way Maxwell wanted to scream.

He was a little thankful for that, honestly.

“I do not deserve to be here,” she finished and Maxwell clasped his hands together to keep from doing something with them.

“That has nothing to do with whether you deserve to be here or not, Cassandra,” he said quietly, doing his best not to agree with her.

It just had nothing to do with whether she was a fool or not. “Oh?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Look around at all of us. I think we’re all a little foolish, banding together to face an ancient Tevinter magister Darkspawn and his pet supposed Archdemon,” he answered, deciding to make it sound like that, over anything else.

Cassandra let out a quiet laugh at that, though it was hollow. “I have no regrets, regarding you becoming Inquisitor,” she said and Maxwell made himself smile at that.

He had hoped she would have at least one, but decided it would never happen.

Both she and Leliana saw things through the lens of ‘the greater good’.

“Maybe if we had found Champion Hawke, or Warden-Commander Surana, the Maker wouldn’t have needed to send you,” she continued and Maxwell slowly began to stand up at that.

“You’re…not what I expected, but if I have learned anything, it is that I know less than nothing,” she finished as she also stood up.

Maxwell just inclined his head and began to turn, only to be halted by Cassandra calling his name.

“Cassandra?” he answered as he turned back around to focus on her.

“When I was having the…discussion with Varric, I noticed you had magic in your hand, between your fingers, as if preparing a spell,” she said.

“I was,” he agreed quietly.

“Would you really have used magic against me?” she inquired.

Maxwell would have done so in a heartbeat.

“Not unless I needed to, such as if you leapt for Varric while I was still in the way. You wear _armor_ Cassandra and there was no way I would have been able to get through that without a great deal of injury. I dropped it the moment you got too close,” Maxwell answered.

Cassandra nodded and sighed, scrubbing her hand over her hair. “I will…destroy training dummies, next time,” she said and Maxwell managed to give her a small smile.

“Thank you. I am sure that will be easier on everyone’s nerves as well,” he answered and she nodded a little.

With that, Maxwell turned and headed slowly down the stairs, his ankle protesting each step as he went off in search of Varric.

* * *

After far too much walking than was good for Maxwell, he found Varric in the entry hall of the palace. “Are you alright?” Maxwell asked quietly as he approached Varric.

“It depends on how angry Cassandra is,” Varric answered and Maxwell sighed as he walked closer, carefully leaning against the table, shifting his weight so none was on his right foot.

“She’s calmed down, for now. I think. She may be beating on training dummies,” Maxwell responded quietly.

“Couldn’t she have done that _before_ coming after me?” Varric asked and Maxwell gave a small shrug.

Varric sighed heavily and looked up at Maxwell. “I told you what I knew when it became important,” he said and Maxwell gave a small nod.

“I know you did. I very much doubt you would have kept quiet about Corypheus otherwise, since until he arrived, it seems you believed him dead,” Maxwell responded and Varric sighed.

“I keep hoping that none of this is real. That it is just some bullshit from the Fade and it’ll all…disappear,” he said quietly and Maxwell gave Varric a small smile at that.

“Most everyone does, Varric,” Maxwell said softly.

Varric huffed a little and sighed. “I promise, I’ll do better from now on,” he said.

“I think you do just fine as it is,” Maxwell responded and Varric huffed at that.

“Now, I have to go do preemptive living up to my nickname. I’ve already put myself in between someone who was feeling murderous and their intended victim once today. I would rather not do it twice,” Maxwell said and Varric gave Maxwell a smile.

Maxwell carefully slowly stood up, his ankle protesting as he began to put weight on it once more.

It seemed he was going to be lying down with his ankle propped up at some point today. “See you later, Aegis,” Varric said.

“See you later, Varric,” Maxwell answered and made his way into the rotunda.

He gave Solas a small smile and a wave before he headed for the stairway. He allowed himself to limp then, carefully heading up the stairs, one hand braced against the wall, before he straightened, footsteps even again as he stepped onto the library landing. Dorian was in his usual nook, though this time he was sitting and reading over picking through the books.

“Dorian,” Maxwell greeted and Dorian looked up.

“You know, watching you run about is exhausting,” Dorian remarked and Maxwell startled slightly.

“I’m sorry?” Maxwell questioned.

“Oh, no, don’t apologize. It is quite an enjoyable sight. Varric still in one piece?” Dorian responded.

Maxwell felt his face heat and cleared his throat as he nodded. “He is. Barely. I had to put myself between Cassandra and Varric, which is, partially, why I came up to talk to you,” he responded.

“You came to talk to me about Cassandra and Varric?” Dorian asked with a small smile on his face.

“No. Though if you would like to know how it went, I would be happy to give an in-depth description. It would be rather short,” Maxwell answered and Dorian gave an interested sound before he carefully stood up.

“Alright then. What is your partial reasoning then, for coming up to see me?” he responded and Maxwell shifted slightly, doing his best to keep off his right foot without it being noticed.

“Do you remember the slavery conversation we had?” Maxwell asked and Dorian’s face went surprisingly still.

“Ah, yes, I do. I believe that is the closest I’ve ever seen you to anger. I remember you leaving rather quickly after it,” he answered.

Maxwell nodded a little at that and rolled his shoulders, realizing they had dropped again. “There’s a former slave here, who wields a _very_ large sword. While I fully trust that you will not antagonize him, because you are quite intelligent, please do not make me step between someone intent on murder and their victim. He would easily bypass me. While Cassandra loses focus and throws tactics out the window when she’s angry, I doubt _he_ does,” he explained.

“And he knows who I am?” Dorian asked.

“Everyone deserves a warning so they aren’t forced to confront a painful past, Dorian. It prevents knee-jerk reactions,” Maxwell answered and Dorian crossed his arms.

“Well, I suppose that’s true. I can’t be upset with you over it, really. And you came to warn me as well, though it seems more like a precaution to not bring up my homeland,” he said.

“You’re a very passionate person, Dorian. You get excited, which isn’t a bad thing. As you said, care deeply, hold nothing back, not in love and not in war. Paraphrased of course. I don’t have your charming wit,” Maxwell responded with a warm smile that tugged a little at his scars.

“Of course you don’t. No one does. Though, aren’t you usually _distracted_?” Dorian responded and Maxwell felt his face heat again.

“Oh, always, I’m just getting better at being able to follow your twists and turns of phrase while distracted,” Maxwell responded.

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Dorian said with a smile, one that was small, but real, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

“You said partial reason?” he questioned.

Maxwell blinked and then huffed a quiet laugh. “To talk with you,” he responded.

For a moment Dorian _almost_ looked thrown before he began to speak once more. “Of course you did. I am, after all, a great conversationalist,” he answered and Maxwell smiled a little more, relaxing slightly.

He twitched a little as a scout suddenly appeared at his elbow. “Inquisitor? There’s a meeting scheduled in the War Room,” the scout, female, though her hood hid if she was an Elf or Human, said.

She was too tall to be a Dwarf.

Maxwell stared and then let out a quiet curse. “You forgot, didn’t you?” Dorian asked in an amused tone.

“I can coordinate, but I have never had a mind for time,” Maxwell answered.

“Well then, we’ll pick up this conversation later. Oh, and congratulations on the whole leading-the-Inquisition thing,” Dorian said.

Maxwell thanked him quietly and then turned to follow the scout, who was waiting, to the War Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell has ‘shove it into a box till I can deal with it’ down pat. That is so not healthy.


	14. A Start to Crestwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**  
>  \- Maxwell has a minor sensation flashback.  
> \- Maxwell does that ‘push to the back of the mind to deal with later’ thing again.
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also talks about the Oculara.
> 
> And the Bog Unicorn, Valor, has returned.

* * *

Maxwell mentally mapped Skyhold out as he left the War Room, deciding where he should go first. His party was of Cole, Solas, and Blackwall to Crestwood. He had almost considered bringing Iron Bull before deciding that, since he wasn’t bringing Varric, it would put too much strain while travelling.

Hope and Fenris had left that morning, with food for breakfast on the road in hand, and before anyone except the servants, the scholars, and the stablehands were awake.

Well, and Maxwell, but he had woken the moment they had walked past his room at the gate.

By the Fade, he needed to get out of that ce--room.

Maxwell sighed and considered, before he turned, heading for the rotunda. It put him near Varric and he paused to speak with him. “Morning, Varric,” Maxwell greeted quietly.

“Morning. I’m guessing you told Broody about Sparkler?” Varric asked and Maxwell gave a quiet huff of a laugh at that.

Maxwell almost said ‘yes’, but the idea of the word made his stomach twist, breakfast turning to stone in his stomach. He swallowed, and exhaled, shoving the feelings and…everything that _couldn’t be there_ into the back of his mind.

“I felt it only right,” Maxwell explained softly.

“Yeah, it was. Thanks Aegis,” Varric responded and Maxwell gave a small smile in return.

“You’re welcome. I would like to apologize in advanced, however. I am going to be taking Cole with me to Crestwood,” he explained quietly and Varric seemed to consider before he gave a nod.

“Yeah, that’s alright Aegis. Besides, undead? In a place hit by Darkspawn? I think I’ll be okay missing it. Besides, Waffles will likely come back before running off to wherever. A stop point, even if Broody makes noises,” Varric answered.

“Well then. We’ll see you when we come back,” Maxwell answered.

“And who is the ‘we’?” Varric asked.

“Cole, Solas, and Blackwall,” Maxwell answered and Varric’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

“You’re surprised,” he remarked quietly.

“I just thought you would take Sparkler,” Varric explained.

“Fenris the escaped ex-slave from Tevinter near a Tevinter Altus? Who is also a very powerful mage? You’re right, I should most definitely place them in close proximity to each other in a high-stress situation,” Maxwell responded, knowing his tone went dry at the end.

Varric chuckled at that. “Point. Though I thought you said you hadn’t read my _Tale of the Champion_ ,” he answered.

“I haven’t,” Maxwell agreed quietly.

Varric raised an eyebrow and Maxwell gave Varric a half-smile. “Others have,” he offered, idly wondering how long it would take for anyone to flat out ask him how he knew so much about the going-ons of Kirwall at the start of the Rebellion.

Maxwell resisted the urge to snort.

It was a revolution, and it was one that had cost the Mages more lives in _one Circle_ (Dairsmuid) than the entire Order, _combined_ , even taking into consideration the Red Templars.

“Yeah, sure, we’ll go with that. For now. I’m guessing you’re going to tell Solas so he can get ready?” Varric responded.

“I am. Then I’ll tell Blackwall. Cole already knows,” Maxwell responded.

“Yeah. Little scary like that,” Varric said and Maxwell let out a soft chuckle in response.

“He’s just being himself as best as he can be,” Maxwell answered and gave Varric a wave before he turned to head into rotunda.

He could hear quiet conversation happening and he was curious as to who was researching what when he stepped fully into the rotunda. He almost promptly left, deciding that it was obviously a dream and he had yet to wake up when he registered the sight of Solas, Dorian, and Vivienne all standing around Solas’ desk.

And not ripping each other to shreds.

Dorian and Solas were actually bent over something while Vivienne was leaning toward it, one hand wrapped around the staff Maxwell had had crafted for her. She looked like a lady ruling in her Court, or, really, like his mother.

It wasn’t a bad comparison and the fact he had thought it startled him slightly.

“Inquisitor, we were just about to ask for you,” Vivienne greeted, which drew the attention of the other two.

“Inquisitor,” Solas greeted.

“And here I thought I was going to have to unearth you,” Dorian greeted as Maxwell stepped fully into the rotunda.

“Not something particularly difficult for you, I imagine,” Maxwell responded warmly as he stepped closer to Solas’ desk.

“What were you about to look for me over?” Maxwell asked and was surprised when Dorian carefully picked up one of the scrolls they were bent over to move it so Maxwell could read it.

“These scrolls you had Lady Montilyet win at auction for you, my dear,” Vivienne said and Dorian was beaming widely.

“They mention a _temple_ in the Oaisis, linked to…shards?” Dorian explained.

“Likely an elvish temple and yes, likely linked to the shards that could only be uncovered through the skulls,” Solas responded and Maxwell felt his shoulders tense.

“Do you think we should pursue it?” he asked quietly.

“It would likely be wise, my dear. If there is a temple, there could be artifacts within and better you have them than Corypheus,” Vivienne answered.

“I would have to agree, especially if there are any items of _magical_ value. We really wouldn’t want him to get his hands on those,” Dorian agreed.

Maxwell sighed quietly at that and glanced at Solas. “They both offer a fair assessment of the situation. If Corypheus’ forces collect the shards before you do, and open the temple, he could gain whatever was within,” Solas said softly and Maxwell sighed again.

“I hate touching them, ever since I heard how they were made. And they _whisper_. The shards and the skulls,” he muttered.

“They _whisper_?” Dorian asked.

“They do,” Maxwell agreed quietly.

“How are they made?” Vivienne asked.

“The Venatori find Tranquil, and drag them around, or just order them to follow, and then they get a demon to possess them. Force it. In the very moment it is complete, they cut off the Tranquil’s head. Any later and it doesn’t work. I have a copy of the orders in my journal,” Maxwell answered in a tone that was close to how the Tranquil spoke.

He felt an ache in his chest and he began to count his breaths.

“Oh, Maker,” Vivienne exhaled softly, and it sounded like honest pain.

“How could it happen?” she asked and Maxwell looked up at her.

“They’re Tranquil. I can count on one hand how many Mages I’ve met who care about them as people and I can use the same hand to count how many people outside the Circle treat them, see them, as people,” he answered quietly, noting that Dorian had this twisted look on his face.

“What?” Vivienne demanded, rage in her voice.

“They were likely abandoned,” Maxwell said quietly as he leaned on the table to stare down at the scroll.

He sighed through his nose as Vivienne seemed to be doing her best to rein in her rage. “I believe you can add at least two more mages onto that list of those who care for the Tranquil, Inquisitor,” Solas said.

“Three,” Dorian corrected quietly and Maxwell glanced over at him before he gave a nod, looking back down at the scroll.

“Well, now I’ll need my other hand for those outside the Circle,” he said quietly.

“And start to touch the skulls again,” he added after a moment.

“Well, if at all possible, you won’t have to do that alone,” Dorian remarked.

“Indeed. We shall all take turns while with you. You will still have to do the bulk, but if possible, we can look as well,” Vivienne added.

Solas gave a small nod and Maxwell sighed as he leaned on Solas’ desk. “Well, I’ll see if the area can be found and scouted. May as well take care of one half of the puzzle that is the shards,” he said quietly and then blinked.

“Dorian! The door Alexius had!” Maxwell said and Dorian paused before he snapped his fingers.

“Of course! They must have gained access to this temple!” he agreed.

“Then altered it, since it used shards of red lyrium. Which--oh,” Maxwell continued before he stilled.

Information began to slot into place, word of the people disappearing in Emprise du Lion, and the fact Fiona, in the future, said people were needed to grow the red lyrium. Worse than demons indeed.

“What is it?” Dorian asked and Maxwell shook his head.

“I can’t do anything about that right at this moment, so I’ll focus on it later. Crestwood, Grey Wardens, undead attacking Crestwood, Loghain. I can handle that. Worry about…that, later. Next, possibly, depending on when the Grand Ball is. But it needs to be addressed,” he said with another tiny shake of his head.

“A great many things need to be done, Inquisitor. You might need to delegate,” Vivienne remarked calmly and Maxwell nodded.

“I spent a couple of years out of that particular mindset. I’ll need a bit of time to return to it,” he responded and shifted to carefully return the scroll to where it was before.

He was a little thankful that they almost seemed to be getting along at the moment. He was sure it wouldn’t last, but it was good to see that they could get along.

“A delegation mindset?” Vivienne asked.

“I was in charge of the thirty-one…thirty-two, apologies, Tranquil at the Mountain Section,” Maxwell answered and Vivienne gave an impressed sound.

“Harrowed at eighteen then?” she asked and Maxwell nodded once.

“My eighteenth birthday present, in fact,” he offered and slowly stood up straight.

He hadn’t even realized how he had been trying to make himself small. “How did it go?” Dorian asked curiously.

“I had a philosophical conversation with a Pride Demon about the necessities of life and she was very upset when it still didn’t convince me to let her possess me. She tried flattering me a couple of times before she changed tactics,” Maxwell answered and Vivienne gave a quiet noise that almost sounded like a laugh, or a start of one at least.

“A Pride Demon?” Solas questioned and Maxwell looked over at him, nodding once.

“That is correct,” Maxwell answered and brushed a hand over his coat.

“Though that reminds me, I came here to speak with you, Solas,” he added and Solas gave a small nod.

He hesitated and exhaled slowly. “Would you be willing to join me in Crestwood? We leave tomorrow,” Maxwell questioned and Solas nodded.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he responded and Maxwell gave a small nod.

“Now, I am going to go ask Blackwall and Cole will go back to happily sitting on the wall, kicking his feet idly,” he said and shifted to head off.

“I still cannot believe you let that demon remain, my dear,” Vivienne said with a tiny sniff.

“If he becomes a danger, I will take care of it, Madame Vivienne,” Maxwell promised quietly and turned to head for the stables.

At the door he could hear a Hart’s bellow and gave a long sigh.

It seemed Solium, his Red Hart, had returned.

* * *

It had taken far longer than Maxwell would be willing to admit to get Solium to calm down, to calm down the poor stablehands, new as they were to the Red Hart’s particularities, and to get Valor to back down.

“You did well with them,” Blackwall said quietly as he leaned against the stable entrance.

“Thank you. Practice helps however. Frightened mage children have a tendency to set things on fire. Or freeze them. Making them feel comfortable, and safe, prevents such things. Usually,” Maxwell responded as he ran one hand over Valor’s paper thin cheek, the skin covered bone nose nudging at Maxwell’s own cheek as Solium accepted scratches at the base of his antlers.

“I can imagine,” Blackwall answered as he began to come closer.

Valor snorted sharply and shifted his head, pulling his cheek away from Maxwell. He was likely fixing Blackwall with an unnerving stare that came from _having no eyes_.

“Blackwall?” Maxwell questioned as he turned slightly to address Blackwall, his free hand coming down to press against Valor’s chest.

“Inquisitor,” Blackwall answered, looking at Valor.

The Bog Unicorn gave a heaving snort before he followed the push, backing away from Blackwall. “I was wondering if you would come with me to Crestwood? We leave tomorrow,” Maxwell said.

“It would be my honor, Inquisitor,” Blackwall answered.

Before Maxwell could answer, he was nearly sent into a puddle when Valor half slammed into him. As it was, the only reason he _didn’t_ was due to the fact Solium had stepped in the way. Valor’s excitement was practically palpable and Maxwell narrowed his eyes at Solium. “No,” he said.

Valor snorted and tossed his head, the rusty sword barely missing Maxwell’s nose. “Be careful. And no. Crestwood is already under siege from the undead. One more, even one that is a horse with a very large sword stabbed through his head, or maybe _especially_ because of that, might just put them over the edge,” he explained and Valor stomped a hoof.

Solium snorted and shifted so he could shove his neck under Maxwell’s arm, almost hitting Maxwell in the face with one of his antlers. “Wouldn’t it be better if I took Temperance?” he questioned.

Both of them gave a sharp snort at the, though Solium was focused on grazing.

“Very well. I’ll take Solium,” Maxwell said and he was sure they were all very smugly pleased with themselves.

He ignored Blackwall’s chuckling. “Wait till you get a mount that spends their entire time plotting against you,” Maxwell warned and Blackwall continued to laugh quietly as Maxwell’s expense.

* * *

“I don’t know how to ride a horse,” Cole said as Maxwell carefully packed lightweight necessities onto Solium’s back the next morning.

He hadn’t slept at all, waking up in a cold sweat whenever he managed to doze. He shivered and shuddered his way back to sleep, only to wake up once more, a scream, or his breath, trapped in his chest. Everything had been too small, too tight, too _close_ , stone pressing down on him in his cell.

He was just thankful he could do this without falling over on his face.

“Don’t worry. We chose the calmest horse,” Solas reassured Cole.

“They’re very big. Quiet, soft under hand. Gentle, nudge against the palm, a heavy breath. They don’t listen to sound, but watch, quiet. If you think soft thoughts, they respond. Father says he’ll disown us if we don’t learn. Flynn laughs, and nearly chokes on it. Ribs broken--” Cole began to recite.

“Cole,” Maxwell called in a warning tone as he carefully mounted up onto Solium’s back.

Lelianna had informed him they had set up a rough system of campsites down to the road, so there would be a place for them to rest at the end of a day’s ride.

“Sorry,” Cole said as pet Temperance’s cheek calmly.

“It is alright. You’re being yourself. I just…don’t need that out in the air,” Maxwell answered gently as he gathered Solium’s reins up in one hand.

Solium snorted and tossed his head, the spread of his rack being the only reason Maxwell wasn’t hit with one of the antlers. “Alright. But it hurts,” Cole said.

“Sometimes, things need to heal on their own. It hurts, sometimes, to help,” he said gently and Cole hummed as Blackwall moved to help him mount up.

“Will you teach me to ride Maxwell?” Cole asked as he turned wide eyes to Maxwell.

Maxwell felt his breath stutter briefly in his chest and Cole beamed widely as Maxwell let out a quiet huff of a laugh. “Yes, Cole, I’ll teach you to ride,” he answered and shifted on Solium's back.

The hart snorted and lifted his head, focusing toward the gate. With a gentle tap of his heels against the Hart’s sides, Solium immediately began to walk forward calmly, heading out of Skyhold and toward Crestwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://martyrfanfic.tumblr.com/
> 
> This fic now has a blog attached to it. I _consider_ any requests Asked of me there for Pieces. (Such as things you would like to see. I have a lot of half-scenes that I cut out of necessity)


	15. Crestwood Part 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**  
>  \- Vague to blatant mention of child death by Cole again

* * *

It started raining the day before they reached Crestwood, though they did their best not to slow down, as they were on somewhat of a tight timeline. Solium seemed undisturbed by the rain, though the same could not be said for Blackwall’s Dalish All-Bred, the black and white painted stallion causing a fuss and doing little rears whenever his hooves went through a puddle.

Temperance, despite having Cole, as stiff and potato sack-like in the saddle as he was graceful and liquid on the field of battle, and Solas’ own Fereldan Forder mostly twitched their ears back, but continued without too much fuss. They seemed to react more to the Dalish All-Bred than the rain.

Arriving at the camp at the edge of Crestwood, they were soaked and all of their mounts were ready to rest. “Glad to see you safe, Inquisitor. We have trouble ahead,” Scout Harding greeted as Maxwell dismounted from Solium’s back.

“You’re worried? I should put the Inquisition on high alert,” Maxwell said as he led Solium over.

“Not that bad just yet, but there’s something you need to see,” she said and Maxwell followed her over till he could look at the lake.

The lake with the green light of a Fade Rift spilling up out of it. “Shit,” he said.

“My thoughts exactly. Crestwood was the sight of a flood during the Fifth Blight. That’s not the only rift of the area, but from what I’ve been able to determine it was after that Rift opened that the undead began to appear, coming out of the lake to attack the village below,” Harding explained, gesturing between the lake and the muddy road.

That was going to be worse than the Void to get through.

“What happened, during the Blight?” Maxwell asked as he began to work on removing Solium’s tack.

“Not sure really. We just know that the flood kept Crestwood from turning into another Lothering. It also killed a lot of villagers and refugees from Lothering that were in the Old Caves, which are also flooded,” Harding responded as Maxwell handed the tack to the scout that had run over to accept it.

“Thank you,” he said and Solium shook himself slightly before he began to walk off, heading for a patch of grass.

“Leave him,” Maxwell and Harding said in one voice before they both focused back on the lake.

“Any come up this way?” he asked.

“Only a few wanderers. Most of them head straight for the village,” she answered and Maxwell frowned at that.

“That’s…odd,” Maxwell said and she glanced up at him.

“Normally, undead are attracted to the closest source of light, sound, movement. That’s this camp. You should be under siege. But they’re all going toward the village, omitting a few. Well, once disturbed at any rate. Or even just shuffling across a marsh. Nearest source of movement and light. So why the village, which is up that road? It isn’t even in line of sight Scout Harding,” he said.

“That is most unsettling,” Solas remarked and Maxwell’s entire body tensed to keep himself from jerking away from Solas.

“We’ll keep an eye out. Stay safe. Oh, and congratulations on becoming Inquisitor,” Harding answered and Maxwell murmured a quiet thanks as Cole appeared at his shoulder.

“We need to help. They’re scared, and there’s no one to help. They are not meant for this,” Cole said as he pointed down the road.

“Wasn’t considering stopping,” Maxwell said and turned, ignoring the fact Solas looked surprised.

“Blackwall, I hope you like marching through a cold, rainy, night on a very muddy road,” he called and Blackwall laughed at that as he stood up, sword and shield ready, but at ease.

“Not particularly, but I think I can manage,” Blackwall said and Maxwell nodded before he looked to Cole.

“Lead the way Cole,” he said quietly and Cole walked off, Maxwell following him.

“Do you not think it better to rest?” Solas asked.

“Do you think Cole would wait?” Maxwell answered as he focused forward, easily following Cole’s lead.

“A fair point,” Solas murmured and Maxwell inclined his head slightly.

* * *

“Why didn’t you steer her toward the Wardens?” Blackwall demanded as they walked away from the cabin, up the road, ever on toward the village of Crestwood.

Maxwell was disinclined to answer, though he should have known Cole would chime in. “Too slow, too late, too everything. So much blood, it soaks into my boots. Too much, too much. So many bodies, so much death. So many lives lost, and those that remain do not want to hide.”

Cole’s head tilted and he made a sound. “But it wasn’t hiding! It was a safeguard! A way to protect the children and the Tranquil! They could not have fought, not then,” he protested and Maxwell sighed.

“Those that survived saw it only as that. They were too young or too blinded by long leashed rage. Or too romantic, thinking only of uprisings that were not put down in the most bloody of fashions,” he responded softly.

Before anyone could respond, there were shouts up ahead and the Chain Lightning flew from Maxwell’s fingertips, striking the undead. He moved forward, feeling the rush of Hope swirling around him, bringing up the Barrier he had forgotten to cast, in time to deflect an arrow shot by a corpse. “Positive not even the Fade could conjure this,” he muttered as he threw his arm up in an arc, a wall of ice erupting between the village gates and the undead.

Lightning arced off of him to strike at an approaching corpse and Maxwell turned, Ice Mines appearing in front of him. Ice shot up from the ground as Maxwell twisted again, ignoring the strain that came from casting so close together and Fire Mines were on the other side. A circle of traps waiting for corpses to wander into them and he watched as Cole appeared, driving his daggers into the back a corpse.

Cole twisted in a way then, dragging the daggers out, but also spinning the corpse away from the villager and Blackwall was protecting another villager that had fallen, shield up, sword through the corpse that had wandered too close. Maxwell twisted and a Barrier leapt around them just as a _fire storm_ rained itself down onto the field.

He twitched slightly at the feel of the Fade and Hope sunk back into the Fade, letting her Barrier drop away as Maxwell focused on Solas. He looked as calm as ever, impassive and he looked over at Maxwell.

“Inquisitor?” Solas questioned.

Maxwell considered and then gave a small shake of his head. “It is nothing that can’t wait,” he answered and dispelled the Ice Wall with his left hand, the motion automatic now.

Even though he wasn’t near a Fade Rift, he saw the flare of green through his glove.

“It’s the Herald,” the whispers began, likely racing through Crestwood before Maxwell had even stepped through the gate.

* * *

Maxwell felt his spine itch in far too familiar of a fashion.

There was something that the Mayor hadn’t told them. Something that he had tried to avoid, said that it couldn’t be done because the Keep that stood guard over the destroyed by Darkspawn dam controls had been taken over by bandits.

They had been a nuisance to clear out, yes, and likely overwhelming for a village like Crestwood, but Maxwell still felt… _off_.

“You don’t like bandits though,” Cole said and Maxwell hummed slightly.

“No, I don’t. But this goes beyond that. There is something…wrong here. Something that is just a step off the mark,” Maxwell said quietly and he exhaled quietly, tilting his head back enough to not drown himself on accident in the rain.

Cole made a quiet sound, but for once didn’t say whatever hurt he had heard in Maxwell’s head. He had to admit he was more than a little thankful for that.

“Mockingbird, mockingbird, quiet and still, what do you see from the top of that hill? Can you see up? Can you see down?” Cole began to sing and Maxwell frowned slightly, tilting his head.

Blackwall practically became stone upon hearing Cole starting to sing it. “Can you see the dead things all around the town?” Cole continued to sing.

“How do you know that song?” Blackwall demanded.

“It just came to me. Everyone says everyone knows it. The children knew it,” Cole answered and looked at Maxwell.

“We should go find the controls,” Maxwell said gently and continued across the bridge to the tavern that stood on the dam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/29/2016
> 
> Here is the [blog](http://martyrfanfic.tumblr.com/) for Martyr.
> 
> And here is the [new timeline](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mx9dZHxG7Qvtbn3guvXQ_V1IsRm6VnEuOxKjD5UPsuA/edit?usp=sharing) in Google Docs.


	16. Crestwood Part 02

“The Mayor’s shame has this shape,” Cole whispered as they stared at the fully working controls.

There was also the fact they had stumbled on a pair of lovers who had obviously snuck out while _undead were attacking_ , past bandits, to have a moment. In this tavern.

Maxwell almost wanted to bang his head against the closest wall alone over that, but what stopped him was the fact _they were there_. There had to have been another way around, to get to this tavern, to _get to the controls_.

The controls that were not damaged in the slightest.

Maxwell sighed quietly as he ran his hand over them, coming up with dust. “The Mayor said these were destroyed,” he said quietly as he brushed his hand off against his coat.

“Someone repaired them,” Blackwall remarked.

Maxwell sighed softly and shook his head a little. “Come help me turn this,” he said with a wave of his hand.

Blackwall nodded and between the two of them they got it turning. They heard the rush of water, obvious for the way it practically _roared_.

Maxwell may physically _scream_ if there is another dragon around here.

Two High Dragons? _Two_? Within days of each other? He may just throw something, because that means he must take care of them before they go at each other when territory infringement happens.

And it will happen.

Maxwell sighed quietly and then slowly began to head for the door.

Well, that had been his plan when his ankle gave out under him. He grunted as he caught himself on one of the wooden struts of the wheel to keep himself from falling and leaned heavily on it.

“Falling, tumbling, snap, crack, down the stairs,” Cole said suddenly and Maxwell just hummed.

“A hand between the shoulder blades, a cruel snicker. Liar, betrayer, you must have known what they do and you have…” Cole continued.

“Cole, enough, please,” Maxwell said and Cole fell silent.

“Are you alright?” Blackwall asked and Maxwell nodded.

“In a moment. Just a few moments,” Maxwell answered as he leaned a little heavier on the wooden spoke.

He was careful as he settled his foot on the ground and then took a step. He limped, of course, but it could more or less bear his weight. He began moving again, ignoring the looks from both Blackwall and Solas, instead focused on heading outside.

* * *

“Cole, can you just…stab me?” Maxwell asked faintly as _another Fade-forsaken High Dragon_ flew overhead.

It screeched and screamed, and he heard Blackwall swear. “No? It would hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. Too many people hurt you,” Cole protested.

“Thank you, Cole,” Maxwell responded as he watched the High Dragon fly out of sight and he exhaled quietly.

He considered and continued to limp his way to where he believed there was a path down into Old Crestwood. “Inquisitor, are you sure this is wise?” Solas asked.

“No, But it is right,” Maxwell answered as he limped his way down.

* * *

“I have never met a _Spirit of Command_ before,” Maxwell said with a soft sound as he grinned brightly.

He felt something in his chest, a lightness and excitement. He knew they existed, and meeting that Spirit on the same field, saying that yes, they shared a common statement, they _commanded_ , had been a little exhilarating.

Maxwell was sure Hope was going to laugh at him later.

“I am surprised,” Solas said and Maxwell looked over at him, pausing on the way to the old caves.

“What do you mean?” Maxwell questioned softly.

“You are one who seems to take to command as easily as a Spirit to the Fade. I am surprised to hear you have not met one before,” Solas explained.

“Command is simple in the Fade, but complex in the Waking. They must have absolute, be unquestioned. They say a word and it is obeyed. Here, in the Waking, it is not as easy, but the line is there. To bring Command, they must have it. Maxwell hasn’t had Command before now,” Cole explained and Maxwell glanced over, then gave a nod.

“True,” he murmured softly and continued to the Flooded Caves.

* * *

There was Despair everywhere. Rage, Fear, Despair, they were the Demons that came through here, not to mention the Wisps. They possessed water decomposed corpses and corpses of those that had been buried before the flooding had happened.

Maxwell felt drained on so many levels for this. The wet sand sunk underfoot and he exhaled quietly.

The damp clung to the stone, and some of it felt almost _rotten_. Cole guided further and further into the caves, drawn not only by the large Rift at the very bottom, but the old pains.

There were a great deal of Despair demons.

“Inquisitor?” Solas questioned and Maxwell startled, his head snapping toward him.

Cole had moved at some point, wrapping his arms around Maxwell’s arm, the left, the one with the mark, though Maxwell hadn’t noticed. Blackwall was closer than he had been and would have likely reached for Maxwell, except Solas had a hand on Blackwall’s arm, keeping him from walking forward.

A good thing, really. If Blackwall had touched him when he was caught up in his thoughts, he would have panicked, mistaking Blackwall for a Templar.

It wouldn’t have ended well.

“Cold, grasping, reaching, _freezing_. Despair curling from the inside out. Comes with tears and loss and hopelessness. Freezing everything still, or freezing it to death. But you were never without Hope,” Cole recited quietly.

“No, I gather I wasn’t. Which way?” Maxwell responded and Cole carefully let his arm go.

“There. The song has changed, but it is still there. Down, down, pulsing, twisting, spitting,” Cole said as he began to move toward the wood that was rotting below their feet.

The fact it hadn’t collapsed and killed them all was some type of miracle and one Maxwell wasn’t going to question.

Instead he walked on, ever down and toward the Fade Rift that apparently was large enough Cole could hear it singing even deep below the ground.

* * *

Maxwell idly rubbed his thumb into the palm of his left hand as he looked around where the Rift had been. It had been…a tiring Rift. More waves than usual and what little reserves he had after the fight with the Rage Demon for the Spirit of Command were worn down to nothing from it. He leaned on his staff slightly, partly from exhaustion, partly from pain, and he made a quiet, surprised, noise as Cole was suddenly under his arm, acting as a crutch. “I can help,” he said and Maxwell huffed quietly at that.

“I know,” Maxwell answered and exhaled as he began to make his way through the water, leaning on Cole as he did so.

He was soaked through, from the sweat of fighting, and from where he had run through the water to get to the large Rift, not to mention the melted ice from the Despair Demons.

Cole continued to help him as he limped his way past where the Rift was and toward the back stairs.

Maxwell eventually let Cole go to stand on his own and blinked when he looked around to realize he was looking at Dwarven ruins. “So, this was a…Thaig,” Maxwell said softly.

Cole hummed while Solas began to muse on the memories of the place. Maxwell looked around and began to slowly limp along, using his staff more for aid in walking than anything else.

He ended up in the water again and he frowned sharply.

There was water everywhere and the damp stuck to the air.

It still felt rotten.

Maxwell frowned when he thought he heard Solas say something and he turned to ask when he felt his ankle give slightly. He cursed as he stumbled, his ankle giving out under him and he landed in the water with a splash.

He grunted quietly at the impact and exhaled quietly as he sat in the freezing water.

“You know, I’m not even surprised at this point,” Maxwell muttered as he began to shiver.

He blinked slightly as he heard the sound of someone entering the water, instead of walking into it like Maxwell had, and startled slightly when he saw Solas kneel down next to him, carefully pulling Maxwell’s free arm over his shoulders. “That’s really not necessary,” Maxwell said.

“Of course not. Keep your weight on your left foot. We’ll switch sides once you’re standing and have put your staff on your back,” Solas responded.

Maxwell made a quiet sound, but tightened his arm around Solas’s shoulders. Once they were better balanced, Maxwell quickly found himself up, on his foot. He blinked a few times and leaned heavily on Solas as he worked to get his staff back on his back.

Blackwall came over to help him and then Solas moved to support him on his right side. “I think it is time to leave. The Thaig will still be here,” Solas said and Maxwell huffed quietly as they began to limp out.

* * *

Maxwell refused to talk about the fact Blackwall had carried him up the ladder like a sack of flour over his shoulder, even if he thanked him. His ankle was throbbing and he was sure that he wouldn’t have been able to climb the ladder.

That did not change the fact Maxwell had greatly disliked the entire process.

“I like the Nugs,” Cole said as he helped Maxwell sit down so he was leaning against one of the crates on the top platform.

“I do too,” Maxwell responded softly and he sighed as he began to work on taking off his boots, left first.

The right was being rather difficult and he gritted his teeth against any sounds of pain as he finally got it off. He exhaled quietly at the brace, which wasn’t working, and he began to undo that next, quick with the laces as he pulled it off, then his socks so they could dry.

He tugged spare cloth to dry his feet off, ignoring any possible looks, and then worked to take off his coat, exhaling quietly once it was done.

The entire time he ignored how swollen his ankle was. “That should really be taken care of,” Solas said as he let his hand hover over it, some ice magic sitting in the palm of his hand.

Maxwell exhaled sharply at the sudden cold, before he made himself relax. “I know what needs to be done, but I can’t afford it at the moment,” Maxwell responded and shuddered a little.

“I’ll take first watch,” he added quietly.

“What?” Blackwall demanded.

“I’ll take first watch. I’m going to have a hard time falling asleep anyway and we need a watch,” Maxwell explained.

“I don’t sleep,” Cole said and he tilted his head slightly.

Maxwell stared and then shrugged slightly, leaning back against his crate. “I’ll still take first watch. Though someone else is figuring out dinner,” Maxwell responded and closed his eyes.

He was exhausted, as riding all day and then promptly _leaping_ into fighting undead was not conducive to, well, anything really, except Crestwood.

New Crestwood.

By the Fade, he was ex--

* * *

Maxwell jerked awake when a hand came to rest on his shoulder and hand flying out, lightning crackling around his hand.

“Woah!” a deep, somewhat familiar, voice exclaimed.

“I told you,” a soft voice, young, but old at the same time, said.

“So you did Cole. Inquisitor, are you awake?” an older voice said and Maxwell blinked a few times.

It was damp, and cold. His ankle was wrapped in some sort of bandage, and he blinked a few times, noticing he had a massive pain in his neck and his left hand was throbbing.

The lightning was still crackling in his right hand and he blinked a couple of times.

He was--

Right, Crestwood, the Flooded Caves.

 _Blackwall_.

“ _Shit_ , Blackwall, are you alright?” Maxwell questioned, dispelling the magic quickly as he turned slightly toward Blackwall.

There was a veilfire light lantern on the crate next to Solas and a small smell of something _cooked_ , though Maxwell didn’t know where it was coming from. “I’m alright. My own fault, trying to wake you up like that,” Blackwall responded.

Maxwell exhaled before he reached up to rub at his neck, groaning quietly over how sore it was. “What is it?” he asked softly.

“Dinner,” Cole explained as he flopped down next to Maxwell to stare up at him.

“Ah. How long was I asleep?” Maxwell asked.

“Around two hours,” Solas supplied.

“You had light dreams, nice dreams. Hopeful dreams,” Cole said and Maxwell blinked a couple of times before he chuckled, nodding in agreement.

“I did,” he agreed quietly and rubbed at his left palm.

Solas frowned at the movement, but didn’t say anything, even as Blackwall handed Maxwell a mug, which was really all they had with them. “A type of stew. A quick mix of our rations, as well as what you like to pick randomly while walking,” Blackwall said.

Maxwell accepted it, not that surprised. They weren’t exactly prepared to stay out here. They had meant to either go back to camp, or exit the caves, though Maxwell knew they wouldn’t make it.

They would get there at daybreak, at best, and it was just easier to stay here.

The conversation began then, with Solas and Blackwall mainly carrying it, Maxwell mostly interjecting when an opening was given.

It was all simple, easy things.

“Skyhold. How did you find it?” Blackwall asked.

“I looked,” Solas responded simply and Maxwell cleared his throat so he didn’t laugh.

“Now you sound like Cole,” Blackwall muttered.

“Solas didn’t sound like me,” Cole retorted and Maxwell hummed.

“He meant Solas answered like you answered,” Maxwell explained softly.

“No he didn’t,” Cole said and Maxwell gently tugged Cole’s hat over his eyes a little.

“You looked?” Blackwall asked skeptically and Maxwell looked up in time to see Solas look away from them, something almost like a smile on his face.

“Yes. This world is full of wonders for those who seek them,” Solas said and Maxwell exhaled quietly at that.

“Embriums in the garden,” Cole said.

“Yes. Embriums in the garden,” Maxwell agreed and then huffed slightly as he reached up to set his mug on top of the crate he was sitting against.

“Alright, fine, Skyhold is not something you want to talk about,” Blackwall said.

“I did talk of Skyhold,” Solas argued and Maxwell smiled slightly at that, deciding not to correct them.

“No, you didn’t, you just said that you _looked_. Why would you look for a large fortress anyway?” Blackwall retorted.

“To survive out the winter,” Solas said and Blackwall opened his mouth, inhaling as if to argue in return before he settled back a little.

“Point. Very well. Have any advice about fighting demons?” Blackwall responded.

Maxwell shifted a little and leaned so he could watch them talk, eyelids feeling heavy.

“Yes. Survive the first thirty heartbeats and you’ll have already won,” Solas stated.

“So I should try not to die? Helpful,” Blackwall retorted flatly.

Maxwell snorted quietly at that, about to explain before he closed his mouth, realizing Solas could.

“Demons are rarely intelligent enough to change their tactics. If you focus on defending yourself, within the first thirty heartbeats, you will see the full range of their abilities. With that, you should be able to find a weakness and exploit it,” Solas explained and Maxwell gave a small smile at that.

“That is helpful! I will try to remember that,” Blackwall retorted.

“Also, try not to die,” Solas added and Blackwall let out a huff of laughter.

“Please. I would prefer you all live,” Maxwell added and let his eyes close.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Blackwall answered and Maxwell hummed slightly, feeling his left-hand fingers twitch slightly.

Maxwell quickly prompted another conversation, this one regarding how to get back to the nearest camp, or the Keep.

He fell back into an exhausted slumber before anyone managed to answer it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I basically lifted some Travel Dialogue, so I could fill it out a bit. Blackwall and Solas basically decided they were going to try to lull Maxwell back to sleep and they decided to do it by talking. Cole is the one who lays Maxwell down, for those wanting to know before the oneshot is posted.


	17. Crestwood Part 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in Author's Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:**  
>  Child Death (somewhat graphic in a fading nightmare/flashback situation)  
> Some minor emetophobia scattered through it (light, bare mention)  
> Maxwell's trauma (he automatically says 'yes' to something)

 

Maxwell woke with a start, small bodies soaked in blood still dancing across his vision and he blinked a few times to realize he was staring at roof of the caves. He frowned slightly and he ignored the ache that was running through his body, especially his right ankle and left hand, as he slowly sat up. He blinked a few times to see Cole sitting close by, twisting something around in his lap.

“Why won’t you let me help?” Cole asked quietly and Maxwell sighed as he continued to, slowly, work on sitting up.

He was only mildly surprised to see Blackwall and Solas appearing to be asleep, backs to the pair.

“Some things need to be remembered, even if they hurt. Sometimes, things _need_ to hurt, so they can heal, or they’ll never stop hurting unless you forget them, and they _cannot_ be forgotten,” Maxwell answered quietly.

“Like small broken bodies, and blood like a pool across the floor. She’s so _small_ , her eyes so wide,” Cole said quietly.

“Cole,” Maxwell said quietly.

Cole fell silent and he shifted a little more. He twisted his fingers around and Maxwell noticed that it was a soft scrap of lambswool.

Solas likely cut a bit of it from his vest.

“Why can’t I help?” he asked quietly.

“You can, just…not directly. Like Embrium. You help like that,” Maxwell said softly and Cole looked over at him from under his hat.

“But I can’t help shake it out,” Cole said.

“No. I need to remember,” Maxwell answered quietly and then began to reach for his boots.

“What are you doing?” Cole asked.

“Its time to head back to New Crestwood. And find Hawke with her Warden friend. And go tell the Spirit of Command that I defeated the Rage Demon as she commanded,” he answered quietly as he pulled his left boot on first.

“You should rest more,” Cole said quietly.

“I agree with Cole,” Solas added as he sat up, most likely abandoning any pretense of sleeping.

Maxwell hadn’t really thought he had been sleeping in the first place. “That does not change what needs to be done,” Maxwell said and was not surprised when Blackwall sat up, also obviously giving up on pretending to sleep.

“But you could rest a bit longer,” Blackwall said as Maxwell finished putting his left boot on.

He frowned slightly and flexed his left hand. The palm was aching more than usual and he shook his head slightly as he reached for his right boot, only to see it was gone. “Cole, please give me my boot back,” he said quietly.

“After Solas looks at your hand,” Cole said from where he was now behind Blackwall and, yes, holding Maxwell’s right boot.

Solas was already crossing however and Maxwell sighed, holding his left hand out to Solas. The Elf sat cross-legged next to him and drew Maxwell’s left hand closer. “How long has it been aching?” Solas asked.

“Solas, it is always aching,” Maxwell said calmly and Solas gave him a flat look.

Maxwell gave Solas a small smile and exhaled. “I woke up with it hurting more than it did last night. Though that…odd Rift didn’t help matters. My hand was throbbing after,” he offered.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Solas asked.

Maxwell gave a one-shouldered shrug as pale green magic began to curl from around Solas’s fingers and around Maxwell’s hand. Maxwell watched idly, even as Blackwall began to work on pulling together a semblance of a breakfast.

There was something…familiar about the magic, but it escaped him and he exhaled quietly as he closed his eyes. They shot open as he let out a sharp, bitten off, near _scream_ of pain and Solas snatched his hand back.

Maxwell sat there for a moment, shaking, his heart pounding and he exhaled slowly. “Let’s…not do that again, please,” Maxwell said quietly, knowing he still sounded pained.

“Agreed,” Solas said quietly and slowly came back over to carefully hold Maxwell’s left hand again.

This time, he just used Winter Magic to hover over the palm, helping to numb away the accidental pain he had caused.

“Experiment later?” Maxwell offered quietly and Solas twitched slightly, before he nodded.

“Agreed. Better it be in my rotunda anyway.”

Maxwell nodded at that, resisting the urge to smile at the claim of the rotunda.

Solas’s rotunda, Dorian’s corner, Leliana’s loft.

It seemed the library was well and truly claimed.

* * *

Maxwell did his best not to give his companions dark looks.

Cole had ended up holding Maxwell’s boot hostage until a good half-hour after they had eaten, citing the need for Maxwell’s ankle to be checked out. Naturally, Blackwall and Solas had backed him up.

“You three are never allowed to travel with me again,” Maxwell said as he finished tugging his coat on.

“Ah, you don’t mean that Inquisitor,” Blackwall said with a chuckle.

“I find that would be a rather difficult thing to accomplish, considering,” Solas added with a tiny smile.

“I like helping,” Cole said suddenly.

Maxwell stared at them and then sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Next time, just ask. Don’t…don’t _make_ it happen, alright?” Maxwell asked, surprised he wasn’t feeling as ill at ease with all of this as he usually was.

Then again, they had held his boot hostage and given reasonable reasons for that.

“Alright,” Cole agreed.

Maxwell smiled at them and then buckled his research journal to his hip. “Right, let’s get to the keep. Possibly. And Old Crestwood. If we can orient ourselves. I’ll look for one of Leliana’s birds. I hope you didn’t touch my jerky. I use it to bribe them,” he said.

“Only took two pieces,” Blackwall promised and Maxwell nodded.

He picked up his staff and headed to exit the cave.

The moment they stepped out into the sunlight, with rain still falling despite the brightness, green light immediately began to spit furiously out through his glove.

Maxwell cursed and spun in time to see a Rift rip open again and raise some dead out of the ground.

There was also an Arcane Horror.

Maxwell quickly brought his staff forward and threw out a Winter’s Grasp on the Arcane Horror before he shot forward with a Fade Step. He twisted as he felt Lightning arc off of him to hit the nearest corpse.

He quickly threw out a Flaming Array and twisted again, focusing more on the Arcade Horror in time to see it get hit with a Fade Rock. “Well, that seems excessive,” Maxwell remarked just as one of his Fire Mines went off.

He twisted and focused on the corpse only to watch it get stabbed by Cole appearing out of nowhere, the second corpse being cut down by Blackwall.

Maxwell shifted slightly as the Rift pulsed quietly before it sent out further streams, marking where the next Demons would be pulled two.

Two more corpses, naturally, pulled up out of the ground, and there were three Wraiths.

_And_ a Rage Demon, which suddenly made the Wraiths a tad more dangerous.

They often gained fire abilities if they got close enough to a Rage Demon.

Maxwell twirled his staff and snapped out a Winter’s Grasp around the Rage Demon. He didn’t hesitate to Fade Step straight through it, the Rage Demon shattering behind him, likely hit by Blackwall’s charge with the shield.

Maxwell twisted around to note that he was correct, even as he sent out an Energy Barrage, narrowly avoiding Cole, though Solas twisted out of the way of another, even as he sent a concentrated blast of Winter Magic toward a corpse.

Maxwell gritted his teeth against the shock of pain in his left hand and threw it out, intending to use a Lightning Cage, only for _burning agony_ to race through his hand.

He couldn’t stop the scream that ripped out of him, feeling as if his left hand was on _fire_ and he saw the secondary Rift, like what had happened against the Despair Demons in the cave after his escape from Haven. He could barely see however, his eyes were watering and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was still screaming.

It seemed to race up his arm, right into his collarbone, and up into his throat, sharp shocks that made him gasp, or maybe he was still _screaming_ , it hurt so much.

He felt the secondary Rift, the one he had _made_ , close and Maxwell dropped, his hand still feeling like it was burning.

He thought he heard Blackwall shouting something about a knife, but he couldn’t entirely tell, his ears were ringing slightly. He felt something cold against his wrist and then the burning was lessening and then it was merely an echo.

Maxwell panted on the damp ground, the rain still pattering down and he slowly looked up, noticing that his left hand looked like it was a little burned.

And he didn’t have a left glove anymore.

“I don’t think you should wear a glove on your left hand anymore,” Cole said simply, the Rift above them glowing and pulsing, but otherwise quiet, no more demons being spat out.

“I agree with Cole. That is something that shouldn't be part of your wardrobe, considering,” Blackwall added.

“What?” Maxwell croaked out, the green glow flickering slightly before curling under his palm, dimming until it was barely anything.

“When you…when you summoned that secondary Rift, only in reverse, you set your glove on fire,” Solas explained.

“That…explains why it felt like my hand was on fire, then,” Maxwell said quietly and exhaled quietly before he began to carefully start climbing to his feet.

“Should you be moving?” Blackwall asked.

“We can’t worry the scouts any longer,” Maxwell answered quietly, standing somewhat steadily.

Solas followed him up and Maxwell ignored the three of them, somewhat, to look up at the quiet Rift.

Maxwell frowned quietly at the Rift and then lifted his left hand. The green lightning shot out and began to wrap around the Rift. Maxwell gritted his teeth slightly as it almost seemed to thrum through his palm a little more noticeably and Maxwell stumbled back slightly as the Rift closed.

It almost felt like it was displacing the air around it and Maxwell shook his hand out slightly.

“Right, let’s…find out where we are,” he said quietly and turned around to try to get his bearings, only to pause at the fact Cole was right there.

“You shouldn’t hide it,” Cole said.

Apparently Cole was deciding to take the ‘can’t directly help’ explanation a tad more personally than Maxwell had assumed. And he was going with ‘can’t directly help’ by doing his best to have Maxwell admit when he was in pain.

“Cole, can you please back up a step?” Maxwell asked calmly and Cole listened.

“Thank you. And I’m not hiding it,” Maxwell said.

That earned a quiet snort from Blackwall. “Ah, yes, of course. Because _everyone_ with a bad ankle waits to collapse and be unable to walk on it before accepting assistance,” Solas remarked in a dry tone.

Maxwell masterfully did not glare at them. “I am not that much younger than you two,” he responded simply.

“What, a year, two?” Blackwall answered.

“I’m thirty-four,” Maxwell responded.

“Small broken bodies, they never saw twelve,” Cole whispered softly.

“Cole,” Maxwell said gently.

“Sorry. They should have burned,” Cole answered, but there is that inflection that says he’s picking up on Maxwell’s anger, buried under the sorrow.

And guilt.

“Some did,” Maxwell said quietly.

“Who?” Blackwall asked quietly.

“Templars,” Maxwell answered calmly and glanced around.

“We should really try to find a camp. Or a bird,” he added softly and began to walk, now coming close to done with this conversation.

It was…not something that was pleasant to think about.

“Small, too small, they’ll never see adulthood. Her eyes are still so wide, and she’s still smiling. I hope she didn’t have time to be scared, to be hurt, that it happened too fast,” Cole said, obviously following after Maxwell.

“Cole,” Maxwell said quietly.

“Sorry,” Cole answered.

“It is…fine,” Maxwell responded and continued to walk, the air silent except for the pattering of rain against the soaked ground.

* * *

There is a letter on the table in the Mayor’s house, a confession.

A confession, asking for forgiveness, but sure he would never get it.

“His shame has this shape indeed,” Maxwell said quietly.

“He _murdered_ innocent people!” Blackwall practically snarled.

“He did what he considered necessary. The Blight…the Blight destroys everything. As a Warden, you should know this better than others,” Maxwell responded quietly.

“You approve of this?” Blackwall snapped as he rounded on Maxwell.

He locked his knees to keep from backing up a step, even as his shoulders dropped, and shook his head, noticing he was looking at the letter, not at Blackwall. “No. I just see why he thought he had to do what he did. There were other options, but…not many,” Maxwell answered quietly.

“He spared Crestwood from becoming another Lothering. People still can’t return there, apparently, after over a year of the land being soaked in Darkspawn, but he carries innocent souls on his shoulders and his hands are forever stained with innocent blood. At least he is better than most who have the same,” Maxwell said quietly.

“How?” Blackwall asked.

“He feels guilt. He regrets. And then he tried to make up for it,” Maxwell said quietly.

“Is that even possible?”

Maxwell looked over at Blackwall and then gave a small shake of his head. “No. There is no way to make up for innocent souls lost and the stain of innocent blood. But…if someone is _truly_ remorseful, I think they can be _redeemed_. They can eventually be _forgiven_ for it. But nothing can _make up_ for it,” he said quietly and carefully folded up the letter, tucking it away.

“We’ll likely need to tell Crestwood. It will destroy the illusion, but they need to know they’ll have to get another Mayor,” he added and exhaled quietly.

“After this, we’ll get to the Spirit of Command, and then try to find Hawke and Fenris with their Warden friend,” he continued.

He then let out a long sigh as he heard the long, echoing, bellow of Solium, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Why?” he muttered, even as he quickly exited to go get the Red Hart.

* * *

“I thought we were in a hurry?” Blackwall asked far too knowingly.

“Wyverns are a risk to the well-being of the villagers,” Maxwell said simply.

“And the dragon isn’t?” Solas asked and he sounded far too falsely innocent to truly be.

“If they stay away, the dragon will leave them alone. I already told them I would return with a better suited company to remove the dragon,” Maxwell answered.

“You would rather not, but he’ll hurt others if you don’t,” Cole said simply.

Maxwell dropped back to carefully adjust how Cole was holding Temperance’s reins. He then tightened his grip with his thighs and carefully leaned over to, gently, push Cole’s heels down.

“Heels _down_ , Cole, or you’ll fall off,” he said.

“I won’t fall off,” Cole said simply and Maxwell sighed quietly as he sat back up properly.

Solium seemed undisturbed by it, merely walked to the front once more.

* * *

“What took so long?” Hope asked as Maxwell carefully dismounted from Solium’s back.

“Wyverns,” Maxwell answered.

“Maxwell likes to help people,” Cole added and Maxwell went over to help him dismount properly.

“And _wyverns_ helped with that?” Hope asked and Maxwell glanced over at her.

“Killing them did. Blackwall got chewed on,” Maxwell answered as Cole rocked from foot to foot.

“It was an interesting experience,” Blackwall supplied.

Maxwell began to walk up the path toward Fenris and Hope. “It is all interesting until someone gets poisoned,” Maxwell said quietly with a tiny smile.

“It can still be interesting, depending on the type of the poison,” Solas offered.

“And it didn’t end in poisoning?” Fenris asked and Maxwell glanced over at them before he looked back at the cave entrance.

“No, thankfully. Wyvern antidote takes a while to cook up,” Maxwell answered.

“Fortune favors the bold and she has always been bold. Staring down a wyvern as it races toward her, arrow flying, straight and true, straight into the throat through the open maw. Grinning, far too wide, too excited, heart still pounding in terror and wanting to shake her until she understands, even as she laughs and says something in a language you don’t know,” Cole recited.

Maxwell let out a long sigh and turned to Cole. “You still scolded her,” he added accusingly.

“She stared down a Wyvern and shot it through its mouth. I think I was allowed,” Maxwell said dryly and he heard a small huff of laughter.

“She knew she would be okay. You were there, you would protect her,” Cole answered.

Maxwell inhaled sharply at that, his eyes widening slightly, and then he turned away quickly, feeling his shoulders drop slightly as he tried to become small automatically. “Your Warden friend?” he asked quickly and he suddenly desired to stab himself.

“He’s inside,” Hope said quietly and Maxwell began to hurry inside.

He thought he heard Cole say something, and Solas respond, but he just kept walking. There were signs that this was once a slavers hideout.

The bloodstains suggested that they didn’t give up this old hideout willingly.

“There were other Wardens looking for him last night, but they left,” Maxwell said, doing his best to ignore the quiet behind him.

“I’m glad they didn’t think to come this way,” Hope said and Maxwell nodded.

Maxwell stepped through the door then, working on straightening his shoulders as he did so. He looked around, frowning slightly at how empty it was, though the flames were still bright and warm, and noted that the table was set up like the War Table, though smaller in scope.

Maxwell glanced around again and started to turn when he felt someone enter his space and he twisted back around, his staff in his left hand as he brought his right hand up, Winter Magic swirling around his palm.

He stared, keeping calm even as his heart pounded, at the older man, much older, tired looking, in heavy plate, sword pointed at Maxwell’s chest so Maxwell’s arm was measuring against the blade.

He had black hair streaked here and there with grey, the plate, though a shining silver, etched with the griffin of the Grey Wardens.

They stood there for a long moment as Hope rushed in. “It’s us! This is Inquisitor Trevelyan!” Hope said.

They stared off for a few moments longer, before the Warden began to withdraw his sword, Maxwell dispelling his magic. “Warden Loghain Mac Tir,” he introduced and Maxwell blinked a couple of times.

“Inquisitor Maxwell Trevelyan. Threnn speaks highly of you,” Maxwell responded quietly.

Loghain gave a small nod and seemed to be sizing Maxwell up. “I’m glad to hear of it. It seems we have a common cause, Inquisitor,” he said and Maxwell gave a small head nod.

“So it would seem,” Maxwell agreed quietly as he resettled his staff across his back.

They stared at each other a moment longer and then Loghain stepped back. “After Hawke killed Corypheus, Weisshaupt was content. I was not. If the Archdemon could survive seemingly mortal wounds, why not Corypheus?” he said walking over to his war table.

His steps were sure, those of a General, one who knew battles, and Maxwell followed him over to the table, though giving a wide berth so Loghain could see him coming.

This close, Maxwell could see some of the maps were…old. Older than the rest, a little more outdated. One had writing along the top, a careful slant to it that spoke of long practice in being quick, yet neat.

_The Battle of Denerim, Planning_

There was more writing along the edge, but before Maxwell could read any of it, Loghain had moved a map, seemingly for no reason, but Maxwell had a feeling it was to hide the writing. To hide something he considered his own and to keep secret and safe.

“I found evidence, but no proof. And then, every single Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling,” Loghain said quietly as he stared down at the maps.

“I remember that being a _bad_ thing, but I would remember if you had told me _that_ ,” Hope said, sounding a little cross.

“I thought we had _agreed_ , Loghain, that you would not keep things from us. The last time a Warden did that, a Chantry exploded,” Fenris said.

“To be fair, a bunch of innocent children were about to be slaughtered by a madwoman,” Maxwell said quietly.

“Small bodies, bloody on the floor. Were already--” Cole began to say, only to suddenly be cut off.

Maxwell glanced over to see that Solas had laid a hand on Cole’s shoulder, before he looked back at Loghain.

“I hadn’t thought it concerned you,” Loghain said quietly, not looking at any of them still, still looking at the maps.

“And what is the Calling, exactly?”

“It is a…portent, like crows circling the battlefield before the fighting. The Calling is what tells a Grey Warden that their time has come,” Loghain answered and then he looked up.

“First are the dreams, then the whispers, at the back of the Warden’s head, just out of the edge of hearing. That is when a Warden goes down to the Deep Roads to die, with honor,” he explained quietly and Maxwell watched him.

“And so every Grey Warden in Orlais thinks they’re dying,” Hope said quietly.

“Why do I have a feeling that they’re _not_?” Fenris asked.

“Because it doesn’t make sense for it to be _all of them_ at once. Those like Warden Loghain, who have served longer, ten years or more, makes sense. But those newly conscripted? No,” Maxwell responded and then looked over toward Blackwall, who, while he was standing normally, was not offering any insight.

“Exactly. I believe that it is, somehow, the work of Corypheus,” Loghain said as he stood up fully, turning toward the rest.

Maxwell moved to stand next to Hope, putting it so he was now flanking her with Fenris, so he could lean against the rock to keep some weight off his ankle.

He had no desire to see if Cole could steal his boot off his foot while he was _wearing it_.

He watched Loghain and glanced toward Blackwall on occasion, noting Blackwall had shifted to be closer to Cole.

Solas just looked slightly peeved, while Cole was staring at Loghain, head tilting slightly.

“If the Wardens fall, who will stop the next Blight? _That_ is what’s panicked my brethren,” Loghain said.

“Fear is one thing, panic another. Fear leads to desperation, but panic leads to desperate people doing short-sighted and idiotic things,” Maxwell said quietly.

“Which is exactly what Corypheus wants,” Hope said quietly and Maxwell gave a quiet nod of his head, a small tilt to the side.

“This would never come to pass if the Wardens actually explained themselves,” Fenris remarked.

“If only,” Maxwell said quietly.

He looked at Loghain. “Is there any chance that the Calling you are hearing is real?”

Loghain hesitated and then shook his head. “I don’t know. Even as a Senior Warden, I know little of Corypheus,” he said quietly.

“And it doesn’t really matter. If they believe it to be real, it might as well be. Once belief is sown, there is little that can rip it out, not without doing a great deal of damage at any rate,” Maxwell added quietly.

“Quite correct,” Loghain agreed and Maxwell decided to just focus on Loghain over Blackwall.

“Don’t worry Inquisitor, I promise to inform you should I start to hear whispers,” Blackwall called and Maxwell gave a small smile.

“Thank you, Blackwall,” Maxwell said quietly.

“Warden Blackwall? I hadn’t known another Warden was with you. I’ve heard many good things about you,” Loghain said quietly.

“Thank you. I’ve…heard about you,” Blackwall answered politely.

“The Traitor Teryn who helped to kill the Wardens at Ostagar? I’ve heard worse,” Loghain answered.

He shook his head slightly. “It doesn’t matter. Warden-Commander Clarel proposed a ritual involving blood magic, a desperate measure to prevent future Blights,” he said and Maxwell glanced over when he saw Solas leave.

Cole hesitated and Maxwell gave a tiny shift of his head, Cole quickly following after Solas.

“When I protested, called it madness, they tried to arrest me,” Loghain said and turned back to the maps.

Maxwell slowly stood up and headed back to the table, watching as Loghain shifted the maps slightly. “I got these maps from a friend, and they’re quite detailed. The ones for the Western Approach shouldn’t be out of date, no matter how old they are,” he said quietly.

“Neria?” Maxwell questioned before he could stop himself.

He had heard more about Neria’s childhood years than most, he was sure, and Loghain’s eyes snapped up to him.

“Have you seen her?” Loghain asked.

“No. I just…know someone who knew her,” Maxwell answered quietly and Loghain exhaled quietly.

“I see. We should hurry as quickly as we can to the Western Approach. There is an old Tevinter ritual tower there and we’ll likely find more answers. We’ll meet you there,” Loghain said as he reached out to start rolling up the maps.

“Of course, Warden Loghain,” Maxwell said and began to exit.

“We’ll speak more outside?” Hope asked and Maxwell nodded.

“Yes, of course,” he answered and nearly winced, feeling sick crawl up his throat.

He gave a small nod again and walked out, exhaling quietly as he scrubbed his hand over his face.

Solium let out a little snort as Maxwell quickly walked over to meet the hart, who seemed content to let Maxwell scratch at the base of his antlers.

He heard someone approaching and the footsteps were unfamiliar, which caused Maxwell to turn around, shoulders slightly tense.

While Cole hadn’t said much around Hope and Fenris, or Warden Loghain, there was a slight possibility that it was Solas approaching him. And Cole had already revealed far more than Maxwell was comfortable with anyone knowing.

He tensed further when he saw it was Hope walking down to him. “Hawke,” Maxwell greeted quietly and huffed when Solium immediately shifted to shove his neck under Maxwell’s arm.

He nearly hit both Hope and Maxwell with his rack in doing so, which caused Maxwell to start scratching his neck. “You’re going to hurt someone one day,” Maxwell said quietly and only got the hart shaking his head slightly, nearly smacking them both again.

“He reminds me of my Mabari. He’s with my brother. It took a great deal of convincing,” Hope said quietly and Maxwell looked away as he focused on Solium.

“I have a feeling he’s smarter than he pretends to be,” he said quietly as he scratched Solium’s neck to hide his shaking fingers.

Solium let out a snorted and pressed somewhat against Maxwell, nearly sending him to the ground. “You are,” he said quietly.

Hope smiled a little and then exhaled before she focused on Maxwell. “I--” she questioned and then paused, staring at Maxwell.

“I was wondering when you felt you could travel to the Western Approach,” she said, though it was obviously not what she intended to say.

Maxwell blinked a bit and began to work out travel ideas with Hope.

He barely managed to hide his shaking by petting Solium idly, even as his heart pounded.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, somewhat heavy-handed in regards to Blackwall, but meh. It works. I like it. Also, I need to practice Fenris.
> 
> Edit; Scratch my hatred of Friendly/Rivalry. I actually enjoy it now that I get how it works.
> 
> Would have been easier if that was separated.
> 
> Like, Friend/Enemy, then Friendly/Rivalry
> 
> So you can be Vitrolistic Best Friends (Friend - Rivalry) or Friendly Enemies (Enemy -Friendly) or something like that.
> 
> Maybe not so Friend/Enemy, but something like that.


	18. The Return to Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Maxwell's coping mechanism of "shove into a corner of my mind to deal with later" is alive and well. If something jumps out and startles you, either drop me an ask at the Tumblr ([Martyr's Blog](https://martyrfanfic.tumblr.com/)) or comment here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I wanted 10+ pages of Maxwell coming here and visiting every single one of his Companions and Advisors and so I wrote it and it is in the main fic. Plus, Fortunata. Because I wanted that. (Fortunata is adorable and 21.)
> 
> Here be more OCs!!! But it is a Dragon Age fanfic so, really, is anyone surprised?

* * *

Maxwell was exhausted, the ride returning from Crestwood seeming longer and far more exhausting than when he left for Crestwood.

By the Fade, it had only been _a month_ , give or take a week. How could he feel so exhausted?

Beyond the fact he had barely slept since leaving Crestwood, nightmares creeping close, and waking him from a sound sleep.

When he had any sleep at all, at any rate.

He usually just…dozed. His eyes were closed and he was lying down in his tent, but he was otherwise…not resting. He was sure last night’s sleep was due to Cole doing…something.

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. He knew Cole had trouble making him…forget things. It was something Cole had admitted to on their trip, and Maxwell didn’t want to pursue what _that_ meant until after he wasn’t feeling so…drained.

Maxwell nearly slumped when he remembered that it was only going to get _worse_.

Travel aside, he felt like he hadn’t really managed to _breathe_ since becoming Inquisitor.

They were racing against time, some silent, unknown thing that merely was within a year. To stop the assassination, to stop the demon army, to stop Corypheus.

Maxwell made himself sit up a slight straighter, put his shoulders back a little more properly, as they began to draw near Skyhold’s gates. He gave small nods and smiles to those who paused to look at him, no matter the reasoning behind _why_.

Solium gave a quiet snort as they turned toward the stables, shaking his head a little, his rack barely missed hitting Maxwell with each swing of his head.

Maxwell looked toward what had irked Solium and he sighed quietly to see a group of horses, obviously loaded for both travel and riding, somewhat in the way. He shook his head slightly as he pat Solium’s neck. “Easy, Solium,” he murmured gently and looked up again, only to find himself staring at a pale palomino Free Marches Ranger.

The Free Marches Ranger’s rider was wearing a hood, but he _knew that bow_.

That warm red wood bow, the grip a little spiked, though the sparking of lightning across the bow was new.

It said that a rune had been added.

But even without the bow, he knew the way Fortunata shifted, especially when she was annoyed and trying to keep her Ostwick accent instead of showing off the Antivian one she inherited from their mother.

“Inquisitor?” Solas questioned as Maxwell dismounted.

Maxwell couldn’t answer, even as he heard Cole make a happy sound. “Fortune favors the bold,” Cole said cheerfully.

“Fortunata!” Maxwell called and she turned, shoving her hood back as she did so to reveal her snow-white hair and the bright smile on her face visible even in the light of the setting sun.

Maxwell reached her shortly after she had tossed her reins over Alba’s neck and he scooped her up in a hug, careful of the quiver and bow on her back. “Maxwell!” Fortunata responded, relief so very obvious.

He exhaled sharply and she let out a wet laugh. “You’re okay, you’re really okay,” she whispered.

He just nodded a little as he hugged her a little closer, her feet back on the ground now. Her arms shifted with the motion, immediately going to wrap tight around his ribcage instead as she buried her head against his shoulder. “I’m really okay,” Maxwell promised softly as he held her a little tighter, right hand coming up to rest against the back of her head, right over the bun.

“I…” she began to say, but she slipped off into something that wasn’t Trade Tongue.

He thought it might be Antivian, but it was too muffled to fully make out since she had her face buried in his shoulder.

He just hugged her close and promised her over and over that he was okay.

For the first time since he had woken up after the Conclave, it was actually the truth.

* * *

“I heard a rumor about you,” Varric said as Maxwell entered the fortress with Fortunata and, naturally, Frederick.

He and Fortunata had just gotten Asina and Meredith, the other two Tranquil to come with Fortunata, settled in the appropriate places with their research.

Frederick had refused to remain, instead keeping Maxwell’s left shoulder while Fortunata walked at his right side.

“What has everyone been saying about me now?” Maxwell asked as Frederick walked past, heading straight for Josephine’s office.

Fortunata remained with Maxwell, looking around Skyhold's entry hall curiously, arms loaded down with saddle bags that likely held books.

Skyhold had been cleaned up since Maxwell was last here, but it had been a month, give or take a few days.

It was to be expected.

“That, basically,” Varric said with an idle wave of his hand.

“Frederick Alesso has been my friend and companion for over a decade,” Maxwell said.

Fortunata nodded and then grinned at Varric. “It shows, even when Maxwell isn’t around,” she said.

She then promptly gave a small bow, not unbalancing in the slightest. “I’m Fortunata Trevelyan, Maxwell’s youngest sibling. And only sister,” she greeted brightly as she stood up normally.

“I would have curtsied, but I am not wearing a skirt,” she added with a grin.

“Oh, yeah, she’s your sister Aegis. Varric Tethras, storyteller and compulsive liar,” Varric introduced and Fortunata laughed.

Maxwell smiled quietly at her and glanced up when he saw Frederick leaving, though heading straight for Maxwell. “Fortunata, will you be alright handing those over to a librarian?” he asked and Fortuanta glanced over.

She then promptly sighed. “I don’t think your Ambassador gave him your schedule,” she warned and Maxwell winced ever so slightly at that.

Frederick, for all that he was emotionless, was loyal and protective. That combination had served fairly…alright within the Circle. “To answer your question, yes, so long as you come up after settling this. Oh, and Maxwell?” she added and Maxwell focused on her with that question.

“We brought _Tevinter_ books,” Fortunata said with a mischievous grin.

May she and Sera never meet.

“Scandalous. What would Mother say?” Maxwell responded.

“Use them well and don’t delve into blood magic,” Fortunata recited and headed for the library.

“Why do I get the feeling your mother is the one who provided her with those books?” Varric said as Fortuanta disappeared into the library.

“Most likely because she _did_ ,” Maxwell answered and then focused on Frederick.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan, your Ambassador refused to give me your schedule of meetings. When I explained, she merely said she could not give it to me, even after I showed her your letter of approval,” Frederick said and Maxwell gave Frederick a sad smile.

“Alright. Let’s get this sorted,” Maxwell responded and turned to Varric. “Speak with you later, Varric?”

“Of course Aegis,” Varric answered.

Maxwell gave a nod and turned to head across. Frederick walked at his shoulder, quiet and enough of a deterrent to have people pulling away.

When they reached the door, Frederick pushed the door open ahead of Maxwell, somewhat subtly.

Old habits and old scars.

Neither ever fully went away.

* * *

Maxwell had looked up slightly to see if he could see Fortunata before he went to the stairway that would take him to Leliana. He gave Solas a nod as he walked past and he began the long, painful, hike up the stairs to the top where the crows lived. He stepped out and glanced around before he walked over to Leliana.

Leliana was taking a report from one of her spies at her table, the spy giving a small nod toward Maxwell as he drew closer.

Leliana stood up straight and turned to face him, the spy shifting as if to leave. “Sister Nightingale, I can wait, but we need to discuss something. Privately,” Maxwell said calmly, evenly.

He was a little surprised, honestly. He hadn't thought his voice would be.

Leliana nodded and she turned back to her spy. They spoke for a bit longer and Maxwell noticed one of the crows hopping over to him. Maxwell didn’t hesitate to fish out some of the jerky he carried on him to hold out to the crow, smiling a little when the crow took it.

“Inquisitor?” Leliana called and Maxwell looked up.

He straightened slightly and Leliana gestured to the door he had gone through a month ago. Maxwell waved his hand and Leliana walked out, Maxwell following her out.

They stood in silence for a long moment and Maxwell exhaled slowly. “If you _ever_ put me in a position, or collaborate to put me in a position, where I _cannot say no_ ever again, I do not entirely know what I will do. I will admit that. But I will _never_ trust you again. I will always second guess your reports to me, I will _always_ take everything you give me with the sense that it is a trap or a lie or a _scheme_ to _force me_ to do something you want. Are we clear?” he said quietly as he looked over at Leliana.

His heart was pounding, he felt chilled, but he stood his ground. “I understand, Inquisitor,” Leliana said quietly.

“Was Josephine under the impression I had agreed or was she part of it?” Maxwell asked.

“I let her draw her own conclusions. I could never lie to Josephine, but I also knew she would never send out the notices if you had not been asked yet,” Leliana responded.

“Yes or no,” Maxwell said very quietly, still holding his ground, but barely.

“She did not know that you had not been asked. I lead her to believe that you had, so she would send out word so by the time you _were_ Inquisitor, the word would already be out,” Leliana answered.

Maxwell eyed her for a while longer before he nodded and stepped away, clasping his hands behind his back to hide the shaking. “Good. I’m glad I can trust at least one of my advisors implicitly,” he said and turned, walking back inside.

His steps were even through practice, even though his knees threatened to buckle.

He walked to the stairs that would lead down to Dorian’s landing and had to pause halfway down to lean against the wall. He leaned forward slightly, bracing himself on his knees a little as he focused on breathing and controlling the shakes that were starting to course through him.

Once he had his body under control, he stuffed everything in the little dark corner of his mind until he could deal with it.

Still feeling chilled but no longer ready to collapse, he continued back down, and he stepped out onto the library floor.

“This is for potions and salves. Trust me,” Fortunata said and Maxwell heard the Elven Librarian sigh.

He really needed to learn the poor Elf’s name, especially as he was dealing with Dorian’s criticisms of his library likely daily if not hourly.

“That would be all well and good if anyone here could read it,” the Librarian said.

“Fortunata, is that a Tevene book?” Maxwell asked quietly.

“Yes. Ewal and I are arguing about placement. Well, not arguing. He’s understandably worried,” Fortunata answered.

Maxwell shook his head fondly at Fortunata. “Little sister, not everyone is fluent in four different languages,” he said.

“And working on a fifth,” she added helpfully.

“Little Fortune,” he muttered quietly in Antivian.

Fortunata beamed and she then tapped Maxwell’s nose. He blinked slightly at the action and gave Fortunata a slight look that didn’t cover the small smile he could feel spreading across his face. “You know that proves you’re one of Mother’s darlings, right?” she asked in Antivian.

Maxwell gave her a warmer smile and then drew her close to press a kiss on her forehead. “Try not to drive Ewal up a wall, please. I think Dorian already does that. He was disparaging the library when I left,” he said in Trade Tongue.

Fortunata sighed and nodded as Maxwell withdrew. “See you later?” Fortunata questioned, already returning to her saddle bags of books.

“Yes,” Maxwell agreed and turned to head to Dorian’s nook.

“What about this?” Fortunata asked behind him and Ewal promptly made a quiet, reverent, noise.

Maxwell shook his head slightly as he came to Dorian’s nook, about to greet him when he noticed Dorian pacing back and forth slightly with a letter. “Dorian?” he called and Dorian looked up at him.

“Inquisitor,” he responded, still holding the letter in a manner that was both tight, yet loose enough to only crinkle it slightly.

“What is your letter about?” Maxwell asked softly.

“It is about Felix, Alexius’s son,” Dorian answered and walked over closer to Maxwell. “He went to the Magisterium, stood on the Senate floor, and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, or so I am told.”

Maxwell shifted slightly with a quiet small smile. “Oh?” he asked quietly.

“Everyone back home is talking, though no news on the exact reaction just yet. Felix always was as good as his word,” Dorian answered.

Maxwell twitched slightly at that, his smile gone. “Was?” he asked quietly.

“Travel didn’t agree with him. He’s dead. The Blight caught up with him,” Dorian answered simply and there’s a small slump to Dorian’s shoulders.

Maxwell shifted his weight slightly and looked at Dorian. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

Dorian blinked a couple of times, a small show of surprise, though the tiny withdrawal also betrayed it. “He was ill and on borrowed time anyhow,” he deflected.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t grieve, or regret, his death,” Maxwell said softly.

It was like trying to draw poison from a wound without ending up poisoned yourself.

“I know,” Dorian said and he pulled back ever so slightly again. “He used to sneak me treats from the kitchen, you know. When I was working late in his father’s study. ‘Don’t get into trouble on my behalf,’ I’d tell him. ‘I like trouble,’ he’d say.”

Dorian seemed to be half lost in thought. “Tevinter could use more like him, people who put the good of others ahead of themselves,” he said quietly.

Maxwell bit his tongue to keep himself from asking if that included slaves. There would be a time later, not when Dorian was obviously bleeding off his grief.

“Well, then he should be an example to follow, to aspire to,” Maxwell said quietly. “To be remembered for, if nothing else.”

Dorian gave the smallest smile under his moustache before it was gone. “Should I spread the word? We could spawn the Cult of Felix within a matter of days,” he responded and Maxwell let out a quiet laugh.

He saw Fortunata immediately focus on him, a little obvious with the white hair. “I think there are better ways than that,” Maxwell said.

“I suppose that’s true. And you’re right, his actions should not be forgotten,” Dorian answered and turned away toward the bookshelves.

Maxwell started to step away, turn, when Dorian turned back around to face him. “Thankfully, Felix wasn’t the only decent sort kicking around Thedas,” he said and Maxwell blinked a few times as Dorian focused on the bookshelves.

Maxwell was sure he stood far longer than he should before he turned only to nearly run straight into Frederick. “Frederick, for Fade’s sake,” Maxwell exhaled.

“Bells. I should really have carried through my threat to braid bells in your hair,” he said and then waved his hand toward the stairs behind Frederick.

“You never would have,” Frederick said in the flat, emotionless tone of the Tranquil and Maxwell gave a quiet huff at that.

“No, I never would have,” Maxwell agreed quietly as he began to walk down the steps with Frederick next to him.

“What did you come to find me about?” he asked as they continued to walk down.

“Former Magister Alexius is in the cells. According to the papers, you are to judge him,” Frederick responded and Maxwell came to a dead stop on the stairs.

Frederick’s hand snapped out instantly to catch him, though it was unnecessary.

Old habits, old scars.

“Judge him?” Maxwell asked.

“You are to Sit in Judgement, tomorrow,” Frederick responded and Maxwell stared.

He exhaled quietly and then nodded. “Frederick, can you please pull some books on the laws around Thedas? I am going to need them. Please bring them to my room,” Maxwell said and Frederick nodded.

“Of course, Inquisitor Trevelyan,” Frederick answered and began to walk back up the stairs.

Maxwell exhaled quietly and finished going down the steps. “I am surprised,” Solas said and Maxwell turned toward Solas.

“It was never my idea,” he said quietly.

Solas stared at him and Maxwell walked over. “He…we knew each other, before he was Tranquil. And then he was assigned to me when I was Enchanter and he was Tranquil. It…was not something I was happy with, but the alternative of turning him away would have been worse. For him,” Maxwell said quietly, knowing how it looked.

 _Especially_ with how angry he had gotten with Dorian regarding slavery.

Solas continued to stare and Maxwell felt his shoulders drop slightly. “I can already feel the conversation Dorian is going to drag me into, please don’t add to it,” he said and exhaled quietly.

“That’s not what surprised me,” Solas said. “What surprised me was that you were obviously once with him, yet could handle seeing him as such.”

Maxwell startled and then shook his head slightly. “Handle isn’t what I would call it. I have to go Solas, I’m sorry. I need to see to a prisoner,” he said and quickly began to walk away.

* * *

Maxwell walked down the steps to the dungeons after more than a few wrong turns and eventually having to ask one of Leliana’s scouts where it was.

There was one guard with an aura coming off of them that _screamed_ Templar and Maxwell came to a stop next to her.

“Leave us, please,” Maxwell said.

“But, Inquisitor,” she protested.

“I can handle myself. Please, leave,” Maxwell repeated.

She gave a sharp nod. “Of course, Inquisitor,” the Templar answered and Maxwell walked toward Alexius’s cell.

He waited until he heard the door shut, and even checked to see she was gone, before he focused on the former Magister.

“Come to gloat?” Alexius asked.

“There is nothing to gloat about, Ser Alexius,” Maxwell answered quietly.

“Then why are you here?” he demanded.

Maxwell exhaled quietly and took a step closer. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” he said quietly and Alexius tensed, “but your son has succumbed to the Blight.”

Alexius curled up slightly in his cell and clenched his hands into fists on his lap. “He made it to Tevinter, where we can both hope that he was among friends,” Maxwell finished quietly and stepped away.

“I can give you an hour, no more,” he warned quietly and began to walk away, just as Alexius began to sob.

He stepped out, the door shutting tight behind him.

“Leave him for an hour, please. This is the only way out that doesn’t involve death, and you’ll hear if he blows the door off,” Maxwell said.

The Templar obviously hesitated before she nodded.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” she answered and Maxwell gave a nod before he walked back up into the Courtyard.

* * *

Maxwell walked to the Tavern and stopped at the sign he saw hanging above it of Andraste holding…was that him? Was that Andraste holding _him_ in her arms?

“For Fade’s sake,” he muttered and walked in.

He looked around, noticing when the Bard began to play ‘Sera was Never’ only to quickly change it when what looked like a carving of a duck was thrown from where there was a wood wall that kept Sera out of sight.

 _“Empress of Fire, what season may come…”_ Meradyn began to sing and Maxwell was about to walk up the stairs when he saw Krem, then further back the Iron Bull.

He paused and then walked to Krem.

“Inquisitor,” Krem greeted.

“Krem,” Maxwell answered.

“Do I ask you or the Iron Bull if I need to ask the Chargers if you can do something?” he asked.

Krem blinked and shrugged. “Depends, but if it is dragon hunting, better ask the Chief,” he answered.

Maxwell shook his head and then shrugged slightly. “You’ll probably wish for dragon hunting by the end, depending. I need to ask if you and some Chargers could escort my sister back to Bell Glen,” he said and quickly side-stepped when Krem choked slightly on his alcohol, narrowly avoiding being hit by some of the alcohol when it was explosively spit out.

“Pretty girl with the green eyes and white hair that you picked up and hugged?” Krem choked out.

“Yes. That is my sister. Fortunata. She takes after our great-aunt, according to Mother. Up to and including her method of getting rid of unwanted suitors,” Maxwell answered.

The Iron Bull laughed from where he was seated and Krem groaned. “I take it there was a bet?” Maxwell asked, feeling a small smile spread across his face.

“Yes,” Krem groaned and then exhaled, leaning back slightly.

“We can escort her, no worries,” he promised and Maxwell gave a small nod.

“Thank you.” Maxwell answered and began to walk toward the Iron Bull.

“Hey,” Iron Bull greeted and Maxwell gave a small nod.

“Hey,” Maxwell answered, noticing how Bull could see the right hand of the tavern while Krem sat on the left and could casually greet people so Bull could know who was coming.

Clever.

“There’s a dragon in the Hinterlands. And Crestwood,” Maxwell said and the Iron Bull suddenly seemed to sit up straight instead of slouching.

 _“Two_ Dragons?” he asked, sounding a tad excited.

Maxwell thought he heard Krem mutter something, but Maxwell could mostly only hear his heartbeat in his ears. The chill was back and he swallowed slightly, even as he gave the Iron Bull a smile. “Yes, two. I am going to need to go hunt them and I was--” Maxwell began to explain when he was cut off.

“Yes! The bigger, the better, that’s what I said! And dragons? Dragons are the _best,”_ the Iron Bull responded.

Maxwell nodded slowly at that. “Alright. I’ll mark you down for the Dragon Hunting party then,” he answered and gave a small wave.

“See you, boss,” Bull said and Maxwell just headed up the stairs.

His heart was pounding again.

He paused and then walked around to where he saw the open door that was Sera’s room.

Who else would throw a wooden duck at Maryden’s head?

He came to the doorway and glanced down at the book, opening it to find that it was the report order for a cabinet and a list of things now in it. He shut it and knocked on the doorway, causing Sera to turn around to face him.

“Oh, hey, Ser Lordybloomers,” she greeted.

“Hey. How are you settling in?” Maxwell responded.

“Oh, well enough,” Sera said and she was twisting her fingers around.

Maxwell gave her a small smile. “I was wondering if you would like to be part of my dragon hunting party. Not sure when exactly we’re setting off, but there are two dragons close to settlements and I can’t leave them for long. Unfortunately,” he responded and Sera perked up slightly.

“Dragons usually have gold and stuff, yeah?” Sera asked.

“So I’ve heard. They’re both High Dragons,” Maxwell answered.

Sera grinned, wide and wild and Maxwell was starting to doubt asking Bull and Sera on this. “Frig _yes_ ,” Sera said.

“Alright then. I’ll get you when we are close to riding out,” Maxwell said and Sera nodded excitedly.

Maxwell smiled at her and he stepped away. “I’ll see you later Sera,” he said gently.

“Yeah, go on,” Sera said and Maxwell nodded before he headed for the stairs to walk up, not entirely sure why he was doing so.

“Maxwell,” Cole greeted and Maxwell looked over to find Cole standing in the corner, under the rafters.

“Cole? What are you doing here?” Maxwell said as he walked over to Cole.

“You shouldn’t walk so much. You’re still hurting and you won’t be able to get your boot off again,” Cole said quietly. “And I’m listening. Here is best. I can listen to all the hurt, but not be pulled under by it.”

“I’ll be able to get my boot off. And well, I’m glad you found someplace,” Maxwell responded.

Cole frowned up at Maxwell from under his hat. “You’re hurting more,” Cole said as he reached out to touch Maxwell.

“You were better, Fortune is here,” he said quietly as his hand tightened on Maxwell’s vest slightly, gripping right over Maxwell’s heart.

“A smile, a laugh. ‘I should braid bells into your hair, so you’ll chime with every step,’ and more laughter. ‘You’d never,’ he says quietly as he rests his hand on your cheek, pressing a kiss to your other cheek, unmarred, no blood, scars only on your soul and back. You chase another kiss, this one soft and gentle, everything soft and gentle, no bruises or blood or pain except a quiet ache that hurts because it is so _nice_ ,” Cole said quietly.

“Frederick. I can’t touch him,” he said with a small frown as Maxwell swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“He’s Tranquil, Cole. Because I loved, love, him,” Maxwell said quietly, in a slightly choked voice.

He exhaled sharply when Cole let go of his vest as he suddenly hugged him and he hesitated before he wrapped his arms around Cole. He rubbed Cole’s back gently as Cole tightened his grip on Maxwell, tightening the hug.

“I’m sorry,” Cole said quietly.

“It’s alright,” Maxwell said just as quietly as Cole pressed himself closer.

* * *

Maxwell knocked on his Commander’s door, trying to calm his pounding heart.

This wasn’t the best idea, and he knew it. His heart was pounding, he felt very chilled again as he stepped into Cullen’s office. The Commander looked up and seemed to startle.

“Inquisitor,” he greeted.

“Commander,” Maxwell responded and walked over, though found himself not really able to come much closer.

He was a good foot from the desk, and he couldn’t find it in himself to step any closer, not without crashing down.

“How are you settling in?” Maxwell asked.

Cullen glanced at the distance and shifted so he was standing a little further back as well. “Quite well, Inquisitor,” he answered as Maxwell clasped his hands behind his back.

Cullen watched quietly and Maxwell exhaled quietly. “Sorry,” he said softly.

“It…it is quite alright Inquisitor,” Cullen responded and Maxwell exhaled softly.

“Do you have any reports on how the soldiers are doing?” Maxwell asked, and locked his knees so he could listen.

He had still once been the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall.

He had still seen all of that and not tried to stop or mitigate.

He should not be part of the Face of the Inquisition, not if they wanted the Mages to trust them.

But Maxwell could make himself stand and listen, even as his heart pounded agonizingly hard in his chest.

* * *

“…but I don’t think all demons are that limited. Rage, certainly. Shades, and wisps, of course. But Desire, Hunger, _Pride_? No, I doubt that they are that simple,” Fortunata said and Maxwell stared.

She was sitting on the edge of Solas’s desk in a way that she gave him room, yet could be perched on it. She was sitting partially cross-legged, tapping a book so old that the gilt in the lettering had been worn away out of the stamped in lettering against her knee.

“I suppose not, but it is enough. And they are still limited in what they can do, here in the waking world,” Solas answered.

“I suppose Pride Demons can’t befriend you and earn your trust before they come up on the outside to trick you into giving them what they want, which is occasionally a way into the waking world,” Fortunata agreed.

“Solas, Fortunata. Fortunata, why are you perched on Solas’s desk?” Maxwell greeted.

He walked over and blinked to see that Solas was mixing paint. “And why are you mixing paint Solas?” Maxwell asked.

“I am hoping to paint a fresco of your exploits, Inquisitor,” Solas answered.

“I’m making your Tevinter Altus friend pout,” Fortunata answered with a wide, mischievous, grin.

Maxwell stared at Fortunata before deciding to temporarily ignore that. “My exploits?” Maxwell asked.

“Starting with the Conclave, so more like the history of the Inquisition and your choices,” Solas answered as he stared up at the blank walls.

“Best of luck,” Maxwell said and he focused on Fortunata.

“What have you done to Dorian?” he asked.

“I am appalled that you automatically assume that I, you’re most benevolent and loving sister--”

“Only sister.”

“You’re most benevolent and loving sister had _done something_ to get Dorian Pavus pouting at me.”

“What did you do?”

Fortunata gave a sigh and then held up the book with a grin. Maxwell reached for the book, only to have her pull it away slightly.

“What is it?” Maxwell asked.

“A book banned by the Chantry.”

“There are a few of those.”

“True. It is a book on the Old Gods of Tevinter and their high priests. Written in Tevene. Come to think of it, it is likely also banned by the Northern Chantry. So, a book banned across most of known Thedas,” she answered with a grin.

Maxwell sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead again. “There are only three people that can read that book within Skyhold. When you leave, there will only be two,” he said.

“I know,” Fortunata said, back to smiling that mischievous smile.

Maxwell paused and frowned slightly. “How do you know how to read Tevene?” he asked in Antivian, suddenly remembering that Yvonne had come from Tevinter with slave hunters on her heels.

“He was going blind,” Fortunata supplied in the same language and Maxwell let out a quiet ‘ah’ at that.

He then stepped back and gave a wave. “Left door when facing the throne by the throne,” Maxwell called as he headed for the stairs to go back up to speak with Vivienne.

“Alright,” Fortunata answered and she was likely turning back to her conversation with Solas regarding demons and spirits.

May Fortunata and Sera never meet or every noble would end up itchy and not being able to leave their rooms.

* * *

Maxwell smiled slightly when he saw Vivienne’s place that oversaw the entire hall.

“Madame Vivienne,” he greeted softly as he walked up the short stairway, noticing that some of the tiles he had picked up were hanging on the wall as he did so.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” Vivienne answered warmly and she gestured to the chair.

“Please, have a seat. I was about to ask for tea to be brought up. Would you care to join me?” she said.

“Thank you. And yes, I would quite enjoy that, thank you,” Maxwell responded as he slowly, gratefully, took the offered seat.

“Wonderful,” Vivienne said just as one of the apprentice mages came rushing out from the library.

* * *

“I have heard that Lord and Lady Vitica are having some trouble with their crops this year,” Vivienne said and Maxwell nodded as he took a polite sip of his tea.

“A rainy season swept through the north. Over half of their crops rotted in the fields,” Maxwell confirmed and Vivienne let out a quiet noise.

“Tragic,” she mused and Maxwell hummed.

“They’ve been told for years however that those fields were prone to flooding in the rainy seasons. I hope this hasn’t hurt their tenants too hard,” she added and Maxwell nodded in agreement.

Vivienne glanced over at him and he gave her a small smile. “Mother, through Fortunata,” he explained and she gave a short nod.

“The girl you hugged in the courtyard,” Vivienne said pointedly.

“I’m not going to stop greeting my sister enthusiastically at Skyhold. If she shows up at the Gala Empress Celene is holding, I shall handle that meeting with tact and decorum fitting of the Game,” Maxwell said simply and Vivienne gave a nod.

“Very well,” she gave in and Maxwell shifted to pour himself another cup of tea, offering silently to do the same for Vivienne.

She politely waved him off.

“Now, Viscomte Rochefort, I heard he had a duel with another nobleman,” Vivienne said and Maxwell made an interested noise.

“Oh? I thought he had put his dueling days behind him,” Maxwell said.

“So had everyone else. Turns out that there was just someone who seemed to push all of his buttons. He naturally leapt right into challenging him to a duel. Or the other Viscomte did. It is a tad muddled. General consensus is that they both challenged each other to a duel at the same time,” Vivienne said and Maxwell gave a soft chuckle at that.

“Oh, someone _has_ light the fire under him,” Maxwell said quietly.

“I suspect to hear they’ve become lovers within the year,” Vivienne said and Maxwell considered.

“I would give it a few more. They will need to duel a few more times,” Maxwell said and Vivienne gave a show of thinking, like to tell Maxwell she was considering his words.

“You know, I think you are quite right, my dear. At least three more duels before they admit to themselves that they are attracted to each other in that fashion. They’re apparently both prideful, stubborn, men,” Vivienne said and Maxwell shook his head slightly as he looked out from the balcony to over the hall.

“Of course,” Maxwell agreed and turned his focus back on Vivienne.

She began to speak other nobles of Orlais, and Maxwell listened carefully, keeping up the dialogue even with his own limited knowledge of Court, until the tea pot emptied and Vivienne waved a little.

“I’ll get us another pot, if that’s alright dear,” Vivienne said and Maxwell gave a small nod.

“Of course, Madame Vivienne,” he answered with a quick smile.

She smiled in return and rose to call for the apprentice again, who was quick to take the tea away to make up another pot and Vivienne sat back down on her settee.

“Now, I know you believe in policing the Mages ourselves,” Vivienne said and Maxwell gave a nod.

“But do you think that wise to continue?” she questioned.

“Yes, I do. Have you heard whispers of blood magic, Madame Vivienne? If so, we’ll need to remove them entirely. Possibly kill them, though I loathe to do that, wielding the Tranquil brand is not an option,” Maxwell responded seriously and Vivienne shook her head slightly.

“I’ve heard nothing my dear, but people are getting antsy. No Templars around and many open mages,” Vivienne said and he considered.

He then chuckled and smiled at her. “Madame Vivienne, how would they feel if we had some of the mages dress out of their robes? It would be an expense, of course, but if we offered them clothing that were not robes. And maybe ask some retired Templars off their lyrium to wear their old armor again around Skyhold,” he questioned.

Vivienne gave a small frown before it became a tiny smile. “It would certainly put those who see the Mask at ease, but what about those behind the mask?” she asked.

“We don’t have enough to train on and I hesitate to do so. Many of the Mages here are wary of Templars, who were only recently trying to kill them all Madame Vivienne. The mages we have were hiding from the Mage-Templar war, and every Templar they saw was going to kill them on sight. You can’t remove that type of instinct,” Maxwell responded quietly.

Vivienne paused and exhaled as she nodded slightly. “We’ll find a way to teach how to know the signs of blood magic, but I’m afraid we can’t do much more than that,” he said quietly and shook his head slightly.

She nodded again and sighed quietly. “Have you decided who you will bring with you to the ball being held by Empress Celene at the Winter Palace?” Vivienne asked.

“I was hoping you would be one. I thought you would enjoy it,” Maxwell answered.

“I am honored, Inquisitor,” Vivienne answered and Maxwell gave a nod.

“Someone is going to have to teach you how to dance, though,” Vivienne said simply.

“I know how, Madame Vivienne, I promise,” Maxwell said.

Vivienne gave a quiet hum and eyed him slightly. “You should still have Josephine arrange lessons, subtly of course, just to brush up,” she said and Maxwell gave a nod.

“Madame Vivienne, I think I could dance well enough to leave my dance partner quite befuddled on how to play the Game. Unless, of course, my dance partner was you. You are not a woman to get distracted,” Maxwell answered with a small smile.

Vivienne raised an eyebrow at him and hummed simply. Maxwell resisted the urge to duck his head as he smiled in return and thanked the apprentice as she approached with the new pot of tea.

“Now, my dear, I heard some new books had been brought to the library?” Vivienne asked and Maxwell nodded as he made himself a new cup of tea.

He was soon speaking about the books he knew of, including ones regarding rare plants and their uses.

* * *

“Back out here already, Aegis?” Varric asked as Maxwell left the rotunda, where Fortunata had disappeared from.

“For now,” Maxwell answered quietly and carefully leaned against Varric’s desk.

He noted the papers spread across it and raised an eyebrow. “What are you working on?” he asked.

“Ignoring my letters from the Dwarven Merchant’s Guild,” Varric answered cheerfully and Maxwell chuckled.

“Don’t get into too much trouble,” Maxwell said as he carefully stood up.

“Josephine or Blackwall?” Maxwell asked.

“I’d save Ruffles for last,” Varric offered.

Maxwell hummed quietly at that and then sighed, nodding. “I’ll make sure to speak to her before I go to change for dinner,” Maxwell said and slowly stood up straight.

“I’ll see you later Varric. Likely across a long hall,” he said and Varric chuckled.

“See you later Aegis,” Varric answered as Maxwell headed back out of the castle and into the courtyard.

* * *

Maxwell paused when he heard the sound of Cassandra’s angry yelling and Maxwell briefly closed his eyes. He inhaled slowly and then turned, walking over to where Cassandra was destroying a training dummy.

“Cassandra?” he called and he locked his knees to keep from backing up when she turned on him.

“Oh, Inquisitor,” she said and cleared her throat, stepping back slightly.

“Cassandra,” Maxwell responded quietly.

He glanced at the training dummies, the fact that the wide space was still cleared of people, and back at Cassandra. “Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Uh, yes, everything is…fine,” Cassandra responded.

Maxwell decided not to pursue that obvious lie. “Well, this is rather fortuitous. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to Redcliffe. And then Crestwood,” he said.

“What for, Inquisitor?”

“To kill two High Dragons.”

Cassandra stared at him. “To…what?” she questioned.

“Kill two High Dragons. They pose a threat to the nearby settlements and I feel it is necessary for us to go kill them,” Maxwell answered.

“How large will our party be?” Cassandra asked, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Four,” Maxwell responded.

 _“Four?”_ Cassandra asked incredulously.

“Four. The party will be myself, you, the Iron Bull, and Sera,” Maxwell responded.

 _“Sera?”_ Cassandra half shouted.

“Yes.”

Cassandra was staring at him. “You want to bring _four people_ to kill _two High Dragons?”_ she asked.

“Not at the same time. One is near Redcliffe, more or less, and the other is near Crestwood,” Maxwell answered.

Cassandra continued to stare and sighed. “Can we not bring some soldiers?” Cassandra asked.

Maxwell paused and then glanced around to the, still completely and utterly abandoned barring the pair of them, area. He stared at the area and then turned back to Cassandra. “How many do you think we can spare?” he asked quietly, instead of asking how she expected soldiers who ran from her to stand against a dragon.

Then again, it was entirely possible they would find a nesting High Dragon less frightening.

Cassandra stared and then sighed, giving a sharp nod.

“Very well. I shall accompany you, the Iron Bull, and _Sera_ to hunt these High Dragons,” Cassandra consented.

“Thank you,” Maxwell responded.

He paused in leaving and glanced at the training dummies. “Should I requisition the iron training dummies?”

Cassandra flushed slightly. “That is…not necessary,” Cassandra said quietly and Maxwell nodded.

“Have a good day Cassandra,” he responded quietly and turned, walking away.

* * *

Maxwell walked slowly across the courtyard, glancing over to see that the doctor was still working on patients on the ground. He made a mental note to speak with Josephine about that and focused on walking toward the stables.

He was not overly surprised when Valor came trotting over, terrifying various people on their pilgrimages. He huffed and pat the undead horse’s neck before he began to lead him back over to what basically amounted to Maxwell’s personal stables.

“Hello Valor,” he greeted softly and let out a quiet grunt when Solium shoved his nose against Maxwell’s upper back.

He sighed and turned his focus on the Red Hart to scratch at the base of his antlers. “You two,” he said fondly before he continued back to the stables.

Solium, pleased with having his demands met, wandered off to the shadier portion of the stables, likely to nap.

Valor followed along behind Maxwell before he broke off to avoid Dennet, likely understanding he made Dennet nervous.

He shook his head slightly at the sight of Alba in what was usually Valor’s stall, and hummed. “Of course. How has Alba settled, Master Dennet?” Maxwell asked.

“Fairly well. Didn’t take too kindly to being handled by anyone but Lady Fortunata, but I half expected that. Breed through a collaboration of _city-states_ and all. They only come together for Blights otherwise,” Dennet said and tipped his head.

“No offense meant, Inquisition.”

“None taken. And she really doesn’t. She apparently bit the last handler before Fortunata,” Maxwell responded.

“I was warned of that, Inquisition,” Dennet reassured and Maxwell nodded.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your work, Horsemaster Dennet,” Maxwell said.

Dennet nodded in return and Maxwell slipped into the main stables. He gave a quiet hum when he saw that Blackwall had a block of wood on his table. “Blackwall?” he called and Blackwall shifted away.

Maxwell could see dark lines drawn on the wood and he walked over. “You carve?” Maxwell asked softly.

“Just to pass the time. Was there something you needed Inquisitor?” Blackwall answered.

“No. I just wanted to check in with you, briefly. See if you needed anything while in Skyhold,” Maxwell responded quietly.

Blackwall nodded and then shook his head a little. “Ambassador Montilyet was kind enough to find the wood I requested before we left,” he said and Maxwell nodded.

 He stepped away.

“Sorry,” Blackwall said, shaking his head slightly.

“Don’t sleep well during travel?” Maxwell asked and Blackwall gave a small laugh.

“Something like that. Yes. I’ll be in better spirits tomorrow,” Blackwall responded.

“I think I’m leaving back on the road tomorrow,” Maxwell said quietly.

Blackwall glanced over and Maxwell waved his right hand slightly. “The High Dragons. There were two reports about them starting to worry the Scouts by the time we returned. One came in shortly after we did,” Maxwell responded.

“Who are you bringing with you?”

“Cassandra, Sera, and Bull.”

“Alright. And how many soldiers?”

Maxwell gave Blackwall a somewhat flat look. “How many do you think we can spare?” he asked.

Blackwall considered and then sighed. “Fair point,” he agreed.

“They also still run away from Cassandra in a rage,” Maxwell added.

“Not all of us can be blessed by Andraste herself,” Blackwall responded.

Maxwell gave a tiny smile at that, but it felt fake and harsh. “True,” he agreed quietly and sighed.

“I need to speak with our lovely Ambassador. I don’t know if I can sneak a meal in the tavern or if I need to eat with visiting nobles,” Maxwell said quietly.

“Lovely?” Blackwall asked far too casually.

Maxwell considered and nodded. “Not that way for me, I think,” he said quietly and shook his head a little as he felt a chill wash over him.

He shook his head again and sighed quietly. “I should go, before it is too late to know for certain,” he said.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Blackwall responded.

Maxwell gave a nod and left the stables. He worked carefully to keep his footsteps even and he gave a nod and a smile to everyone he saw, ignoring the whispering that followed his footsteps.

* * *

“Josephine,” Maxwell greeted as he stepped into her office.

“Inquisitor,” Josephine said gratefully.

“What can you tell me about who I am dining with tonight?” Maxwell said as he walked over to her desk.

She waved to the chair, a rather nice one, set up on the other side of the desk and Maxwell sat down. “I apologize for my abruptness, but I was starting to think I was going to have to send a messenger for you. Your sister, by the way, has declined to attend, citing that she has nothing appropriate to wear,” Josephine responded.

“She likely doesn’t. Everything she has in Bell Glen is not for any court. It is for hiking through the forest to find ingredients for rare medicines and fighting off creatures she trips over,” Maxwell explained.

Josephine stared and then nodded. “Understandable. What is Bell Glen?” Josephine asked.

“Fortunata’s village,” Maxwell said easily and it was true.

On every piece of paperwork of Bell Glen, Fortunata owned it. She paid the taxes on it and did everything. Listed off who lived there for the census, or whenever there was a sudden increase, and wrote out everything.

The fact that she barely had a hand in running it meant little.

“I suppose she actually _is_ a landed Lady,” he mused.

“I really should be inviting her to the dinner tonight,” Josephine muttered.

“It would only embarrass her. She’ll bring a dress next time, or have Mother ship some of her dresses to here for next time. She is no doubt going to be returning,” Maxwell reassured.

Josephine hesitated and then sighed, nodding. “You have a good point. Now, onto your actual dinner guests. You’ll have enough time to get ready. I suggest wearing the black or the blue. The red is reserved for the Winter Palace,” Josephine said and cleared her throat.

“To start with, Comte and Comtesse de Launcet will be in attendance,” Josephine said.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Maxwell responded.

Josephine gave a quiet snicker before she cleared her throat and began to inform him of the nobles that would be in attendance and where they would be coming from and which would need some words with the Inquisitor to hopefully sway their support.

Maxwell hummed under his breath as he listened, pausing to interject to prove he was listening.

Especially when they got to his cousin.

No one needed to see Antonio drunk.

It would just end poorly for everyone and Sera would likely end up stabbing him.

He didn’t feel like cleaning up _that_ mess in addition to the rest.

* * *

“Well, that went much better than I expected,” Josephine said once they had retreated to her office.

Josephine had helped him escape one Ser Hartford’s recount of his time fighting Darkspawn during the Blight by saying he had paperwork to do.

While it was  _technically_ true, it also wasn't in that all his paperwork was up in his room.

“Yes. We were lucky Lord Venier didn’t get drunk and cause his usual problems,” Maxwell agreed with a tiny smile.

“How did you know watering down his wine would work?” she asked.

Maxwell chuckled quietly. “Mother told me and Fortunata. When I was younger, it was believed I would be the most likely to meet him and have to do just that. Keep this between us, as I am waiting to see how deep of a hole Dorian and Vivienne can dig for themselves, but my mother is Antivian. She said that his own parents watered down his wine because he was a disgrace to them all in barely able to tell swill from a full-bodied beauty of a wine. There was apparently curses involved,” he explained.

“I’ll have to tell my own mother this,” Josephine muttered and then frowned.

“Wait, who is your mother?” she asked.

Maxwell gave a quiet hum. “Lucia,” he answered slowly.

Josephine looked up at him sharply from where she was almost around her desk. “Lucia who?” Josephine asked suspiciously.

“Lucia Trevelyan, nee Venier,” Maxwll answered.

 _“Venier?”_ Josephine asked in a slightly high-pitched voice.

“Yes,” he said with a tiny smile.

“Please may I use that should I ever need to bargain with the Merchant-Princes?” Josephine asked.

“I’m sure Mother won’t mind,” Maxwell answered in Antivian.

Josephine let out an excited sound and suddenly hugged him. Maxwell blinked slightly, the only show of how startled he could possibly show.

He hesitantly started to hug her back when Josephine suddenly let him go, pulling away and looking very embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, it is just, that will immensely help,” she said.

“It is alright. And I’m glad it will do so,” Maxwell said with a small nod.

“Good night, Josephine,” Maxwell said quietly.

“Good night…Inquisitor,” Josephine responded.

Maxwell gave another nod and headed for his new room that was just up the hall and up the tallest staircase from Josephine’s office.

He didn’t twitch at the sight of two obviously Templar trained guards at the bottom of his staircase only through sheer practice.

He did frown, slightly, however, at the shreds of cloth dangling from where some banner must have hung, as if they were haphazardly cut down.

Ah, well, he would likely find out what had caused that in the morning.

He was too tired now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Antonio’s last name; Venier is a Venetian last name held by one of the most prominent noble families from 11th century in Venice, Italy. As Antiva is, loosely, based around Venice, I decided to dig out a Venetian last name.
> 
> I feel I did alright. Appropriately, I do headcanon that they are relatively well-known and influential. And I still say that poison is how Antivian women fight. (On a completely unrelated note, Fortunata is very good and making poisons.)
> 
> For a timeline [follow this link](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mx9dZHxG7Qvtbn3guvXQ_V1IsRm6VnEuOxKjD5UPsuA/edit?usp=sharing).


	19. The Judgement of Gereon Alexius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** References to Maxwell’s past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Judgement and Aftermath. Not a lot of everyone else. Josephine and Maxwell’s friendship is starting to climb up the walls like ivy.
> 
> This chapter felt better here than in the pieces, so here is where it went. I swear, eventually I will write travel things.

* * *

Maxwell hummed quietly as he took measured steps across the hall, grateful that Frederick had been put up in a room just a floor below Maxwell’s. It was obviously a servant’s quarters, but that didn’t overly matter, just that it was safe and secure, and Frederick _used it_.

Maxwell had, ashamedly, been too tired to check last night, but Frederick had taken care of himself, thankfully.

Frederick seemed more concerned that Maxwell hadn’t taken care of himself, in fact, and even now had gone off to make sure that Maxwell got breakfast, along with Fortunata.

Maxwell was going to have to warn the staff Josephine had hired that no one was going to be able to do anything for him now that Frederick was here.

Old habits and old scars.

He stepped into the library and smiled a little at the quiet sounds of shuffling feathers above. He stepped into the rotunda, not overly surprised to see that Solas was not present and looked up briefly.

He smiled and lifted his arm when he saw one of the crows on the railing. The crow took flight and landed on Maxwell’s gloved hand. “Hello,” Maxwell greeted quietly and used his teeth to remove the glove on his other hand so he could pull out some jerky from the purse at the small of his back.

The crow accepted it happily and preened his feathers once done. Maxwell reached out and let his fingers hover in front of the crow. He smiled around the glove in his mouth, ignoring how it was now starting to make his throat tighten slightly, when the crow ran his head under Maxwell’s fingers.

Maxwell pet him for a bit before he reached up to take the glove out of his mouth. “I need to look something up, I’m afraid,” he said and the crow let out a low ‘rrr-rrr’ before he took off with a beat of his wings.

Maxwell put the glove back on and began to head for the stairs.

He paused when he reached the top to find Dorian sitting there in his chair.

Maxwell blinked a bit at that and noticed that while Dorian was looking at a book, he didn’t really seem to be _reading it_.

Maxwell hummed and then reached up to gently knock on the bookshelf. Dorian blinked and looked up. “Ah, Inquisitor,” he greeted only to stop.

His eyes widened slightly and Maxwell blinked slightly at the sudden silence. “Dorian, are you alright?” Maxwell asked quietly.

Dorian smiled a little and let his eyes roam over Maxwell slightly. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Whatever is the occasion?” Dorian asked.

Maxwell resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably from the gaze, even as he felt his face heat slightly.

“I sit in Judgement today. Apparently. I wouldn’t know at all if Frederick hadn’t told me,” Maxwell responded quietly and Dorian tensed slightly.

“Ah,” Dorian answered and then focused back down on his book.

“Right,” he added.

Maxwell exhaled quietly and nodded a little. “There’s still time to see him, before,” Maxwell said.

“I would rather not,” Dorian said, almost sharply.

“Alright,” Maxwell said quietly and slowly stood up.

“Inquisitor,” Frederick called and Maxwell turned toward him.

“Yes, Frederick?”

“Your breakfast is ready,” he said tonelessly.

“You’re eating with us, right?” Maxwell asked as he began to walk over to Frederick.

“If that is what you wish,” Frederick said as Maxwell stepped past him.

“It isn’t about what I wish, Frederick,” Maxwell said quietly.

Frederick didn’t say anything just walked behind Maxwell slightly. “I will. It would be the best option. I found some records during the hall dinner, and did not bring them to your room, as Lady Trevelyan was within at that time and thought she might be asleep at that time,” Frederick reported as they stepped into the rotunda.

“Alright Frederick,” Maxwell said quietly and continued to walk back to his room.

* * *

Maxwell slowly sat down in the throne at the top of the hall. He sat back and lifted his head slightly, looking over the hall. He inhaled slowly when he saw that Dorian wasn’t in attendance, not that he blamed Dorian for wanting to stay away, and glanced up toward the landing to see that Vivienne was standing at the top.

He looked back down and then gave a nod to Josephine who was standing at the bottom of the area for the throne. She turned and gave a nod to the guards, who walked off to get Alexius.

Maxwell waited patiently and as the guards began to return, glanced over to Josephine.

She glanced at her board and began to recite who Alexius was and what his crimes were.

“Fereldan has handed him over to you, to decide his fate,” Josephine finished and Maxwell sighed as he took in Alexius.

A very broken and defeated Alexius.

The man who would have torn apart the world to save his son.

“Ser Alexius, these crimes laid against you are most grievous, though on the account of being an apostate shall be stricken from the record. Until order is restored, _all_ Mages are apostates,” Maxwell said calmly.

Josephine dutifully struck it off, and he gave a small nod of apology to her for not discussing it earlier.

She returned it with a tiny nod of acceptance.

“Do you have anything you wish to say in your defense?” he asked.

“What does it matter?” Alexius asked quietly and Maxwell sighed quietly.

He focused entirely on Alexius. “Ser Alexius, you have great knowledge and understanding of the Arcane. I have heard that you were on the best magical theorists and researchers in all of Tevinter. You have a wealth of Arcane knowledge,” Maxwell said quietly and Alexius looked up at him.

“And I believe that would be how you could best serve the Inquisition. As an arcane researcher,” he continued and gave a small nod.

The guards stepped forward to remove the shackles from Alexius’s wrists.

“This is your second chance, Ser Alexius. Please, make the most of it,” Maxwell finished and glanced over to Josephine.

She gave a tiny nod and Maxwell stood up carefully. “Dismissed,” he said clearly, his voice carrying through the hall.

He then stepped down and toward Josephine. “Ambassador Montilyet?” he greeted and they moved to her office.

* * *

“I will admit, I had not expected that,” Josephine said.

“I would not make him Tranquil and the other options were a waste, if anyone tries to question it,” Maxwell responded quietly.

“Then why?” Josephine asked.

“For all that he made horrible choices, took a wrong turn, he did it in hopes of saving his son. It is hard to see him as someone to be executed, or worse. He deserved a second chance, because he seems like someone who will, in fact, use that second chance to redeem himself,” Maxwell answered as he looked at her.

“Though, I do believe we were scheduled for a War Table meeting soon?” he added.

“Oh, my, yes! I shall place Alexius in suitable quarters later,” Josephine said.

“I trust you to walk the knife’s edge I put you on. I’m sorry that I did not give you prior warning. I shall try to do so, next time,” Maxwell responded.

Josephine startled slightly and then cleared her throat a little.

“Yes, well, it is quite alright Inquisitor. Truly, the knife’s edge was with the de Launcet’s,” Josephine said.

Maxwell chuckled at that and gave a small nod of agreement as they headed toward the War Table.

Josephine began to discuss other nobles that would be in attendance that evening who had just arrived and who Maxwell would need to at least speak personally with “about the weather if nothing else” so they could have, essentially, bragging rights.

Not pleasant, but not the worst thing Maxwell had ever done.

* * *

Maxwell had changed into his usual clothes, the Night Watch outfit, and he had managed to politely engage various members of the nobility he needed to engage.

He was now retreating to the library and frowned when he didn’t see Solas. He heard a sound and he carefully stepped further into the rotunda and looked up to see Solas on one of the scaffolds, looking like he was adding the paint to the sketches he had done that Maxwell must have missed that morning.

On another scaffold, away from Solas, was Fortunata, hopefully making her nuisance poisons and not something that was practically acidic.

He wasn’t going to ask.

He liked having deniability.

He walked up the stairs, hoping to pull some research materials on more laws, and paused when he saw Dorian in his nook.

“I didn’t see you in the hall,” Maxwell said quietly and felt his face heat slightly, realizing how telling that was.

He hadn’t asked Dorian about his thoughts on slavery since their conversation about it.

“No. Though the keep is practically atwitter with your decision,” Dorian responded as he sauntered over to Maxwell.

“Thank you. It was…kind,” Dorian said quietly.

“He deserved a second chance,” Maxwell answered simply.

“And I was able to do so, thanks to what you told me about him. I would never have been able to justify it otherwise,” he added and Dorian seemed to be surprised, briefly.

“Well, I’m glad my vast knowledge was of use to you, Inquisitor,” Dorian said.

“Always,” Maxwell said and gave a small nod of his head.

“I need to get some more history books. If I am going to be Sitting in Judgement often, I will need to make sure that I have prerequisites to base my judgements off of, or branch away from,” he said.

“Yes, well, try not to die. I would notice if you were gone,” Dorian said and then quickly turned to a bookshelf.

Maxwell felt his face heat further and he quickly walked to the history section.

It happened to be near Fiona.

“A bold choice, Inquisitor,” she said quietly and Maxwell exhaled quietly.

“I would not take anything he says at face value,” she added.

“I never do,” Maxwell reassured her and stepped into the nook.


	20. The High Dragons Part 01: The Fereldan Frostback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Somewhat graphic fight scenes (gore mostly) and references to Maxwell’s past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sera is from Denerim where she was likely not taught to ride. This has made for there to be a total of three Companions that don’t know how to ride (Cole, Sera, and Varric; Varric is around Sera’s level, most likely, and is not anymore pleased with it than Sera is).

* * *

Maxwell hummed as he carefully tacked Temperance up. “This is stupid. Why do I got to ride?” Sera grumbled.

“It is faster,” Maxwell said and crouched down slightly to cup his hands. “I’ll give you a leg up. I promise, you’ll be fine. And Valor is staying behind. Along with Cole.”

“Good. Creepy things should stay away,” Sera grumbled as she held onto the pommel.

She put her booted foot into his hands. “One, two, three,” Maxwell said and easily stood.

Sera threw her free leg over and settled. She made a low sound and clutched at Temperance’s mane. Temperance snorted quietly at that and shifted. “Woah, make him stop!” Sera said, sounding a little scared.

“Easy, easy, Temp, easy,” he said quietly as he carefully held onto Temperance’s reins.

The gelding snorted a little, obviously unsure of this. “You’re fine, Sera, I promise. Temperance is very patient,” Maxwell said quietly.

“You can ride right with me, alright? Or Fortunata. Whichever is easiest. We’re both fairly accomplished riders, and here. You just squeeze with your thighs, and try to relax. The tenser you are, the harder it will be,” he said.

Sera snorted a little at that and Maxwell gave her a look.

She just snorted again.

“Alright, now you want to hold the reins loosely enough that you’re not going to yank his head around, but not so loose that they are useless,” Maxwell continued.

Sera started to look panicked again and Fortunata rode up on Alba. “Like how Fortunata is holding the reins,” Maxwell said and Sera glanced over at Maxwell’s nod.

Sera adjusted her hands, still looking a little wild-eyed. “You’ll be alright,” Maxwell promised gently, and Sera just nodded.

Maxwell smiled and stepped over to where Solium was waiting patiently, already tacked up. Cassandra was on her Orlesian Courser, whose name Maxwell didn’t know, and he glanced at Bull, who was on a Dalish All-Bred.

Maxwell gave a nod and mounted up on Solium. “Alright, let’s move out,” Maxwell said.

“How do I make him go?” Sera asked.

“Nudge his side with your heels. _Don’t_ kick. He’ll tear off like he got stung by a bee,” Fortunata answered.

The answer made Sera snicker and Maxwell relaxed.

* * *

The ride to the Hinterlands was uneventful. The most eventful part had been on the evening before Fortunata and the selected Chargers were set to split off from them, and there had been a competition regarding knife throwing.

Maxwell wasn’t entirely sure who won, but it had gone late into the evening.

The second eventful thing was Sera getting a hand on riding on about the fifth day of the journey and attempting to trot.

She hadn’t since.

“You did very well,” Maxwell said as Sera dismounted.

She nearly caught her leg on the cantle. “Yeah, yeah, whatever Ser Lordybloomers,” she grumbled and shook out her legs once on the ground.

She eyed Temperance, who seemed unaffected by Sera, and Maxwell smiled a little, before he turned to start untacking Temperance.

He didn’t twitch when Sera came close, likely watching what he was doing to learn how to do it. With the saddle removed, an Inquisition soldier quickly came over to tether him to the side with the other horses.

Solium was waiting patiently as another soldier took the saddle from Maxwell, allowing him to take care of Solium.

The soldiers were keeping well away from the Red Hart.

Once Solium was free of his tack, he promptly trotted off to the top of the path, away from where the dragon was.

“I think we should wait before we go to kill the High Dragon. Oh, and the dragonlings,” Maxwell answered.

“The _dragonlings?”_ Cassandra shouted.

Sera cackled as Bull let out a loud cheer.

* * *

Maxwell prepped his staff and gave a small bounce on the balls of his feet.

“Wait, they’re _right through this cave?”_ Cassandra asked.

“Yes!” Sera cackled out.

“More or less. If we’re unlucky, Mama Dragon will be hovering close by and spew fire at us,” Maxwell said with a quick grin at Cassandra.

“You are _insane,”_ Cassandra stated.

Maxwell gave a hum and tilted his head slightly as he focused forward.

“Barrier coming,” Maxwell called and quickly threw a barrier over all four of them.

“Run!” he shouted and tore off.

He could hear the roar of the High Dragon and ran straight for the tall pillar, throwing up a Wall of Ice between his companions and the fire that spewed up. It made the wall of ice immediately explode, sending shards everywhere, but protected them a bit better than the barriers.

“So, we’re unlucky,” Maxwell said as he spun his staff around to throw out more Winter spells.

“Yes!” Sera shouted and for a moment a _chill_ erupted at his back.

He twisted around in time to see that she was coated in a curling frost before she began to shoot at the dragonlings that were rushing them.

Maxwell shook his head slightly and focused on the next dragonling only to startle slightly when he was splattered with blood when Bull cut the dragonling’s head off.

He froze, briefly, and then twisted, throwing out a Lightning Bolt that exploded out when it hit the center of a group of five dragonlings, sending the other four flying. “Oh, way to go Boss!” Bull shouted as he charged past, quickly followed by Cassandra.

Maxwell quickly threw out three Ice Mines and twisted around to back up Sera, releasing an Energy Barrage as he did so. Sera was still laughing, though he could barely hear her, as all he could really see was a darting _form_ of some sort that was letting out high-pitched giggles.

He…was not going to ask.

Maxwell grunted as something landed on him and he hit the ground, somewhat surprised to find that a dragonling had _jumped on him_ , likely from the outcropping he had been standing too close to. He let out a Mind Blast, which had the dragonling _flying_ off of him and right onto an Ice Mine.

It let out a little scream as it was frozen in an instant and Bull immediately brought his axe down on it, sending it flying off into millions of pieces.

“I think that’s the last of them,” Cassandra said as Maxwell slowly climbed to his feet.

He reached up and rubbed at his face with his sleeve, wincing when he just felt the blood smear slightly. “I better not get poisoned by dragon’s blood Bull,” Maxwell muttered and Bull let out a booming laugh.

“Ah, you’ll be fine. Just don’t drink any of it,” Bull said with a grin.

“Why?” Sera asked, also splattered with dragon blood.

“Because it will infect you and possibly mutate you,” Cassandra answered.

Sera made a face and sighed. “Come on! I want to go fight a High Dragon!” she said.

“Yeah. This was just a warm-up,” Bull answered with a chuckle.

“These two are the ones you decided should come with us on a dragon hunting expedition?” Cassandra asked quietly.

“Enthusiasm can help. Sometimes,” Maxwell offered and began to make his way across the open, if only because all the trees were smoldering ruins, area toward where he thought the High Dragon could be.

On the way, he blasted a Red Lyrium growth.

* * *

Sera was giggling again as she glanced around the boulder, right under Maxwell’s chest as he was doing the same, at where the Fereldan Frostback was growling and pacing in circles. “If I had known it was one of these, I would have insisted on an army,” Cassandra grumbled.

“Well, we’re here and she knows we’re here. And we’ve killed her dragonlings. And since I have no desire to be hunted, I’m afraid the four of us will just have to kill her,” Maxwell responded as he felt some heat increase at his back.

Bull chuckled at that, sounding like he was above Maxwell and a quick glance up proved that he was, in fact, leaning around the bolder above Maxwell. “You two are not helping,” Maxwell muttered as he focused back on the High Dragon.

“Do you know anything else about her, Cassandra?” Maxwell asked.

“Fire breathing and territorial,” Cassandra responded.

“Thank you,” Maxwell said and sighed.

He watched her spit fire for a few moments and sighed. “I suppose we could just go after her legs,” he answered.

“Seriously?” Cassandra asked and Maxwell gave a small shrug.

“Bull and Cassandra, can you work at her legs, one at a time? And watch out for her fire breathing at the same time?” Maxwell asked.

“You’re serious,” Cassandra said in a disbelieving tone.

Maxwell decided to ignore her. “Yeah. Unless I go into a Blood Frenzy,” Bull answered.

“Alright then. Sera, we’ll pair up. I want to try to keep out of her range as best we can. If you can poison her, that will be helpful,” Maxwell said.

“I need a jar of bees. I know a guy. We’ll talk when we get back to Skyhold,” Sera said.

“I’ll take your word on that. Please only unleash them on the nobles _after_ they’ve given us their money,” Maxwell said and Sera cackled.

“Inquisitor, you should _not_ be encouraging her!” Cassandra hissed.

“Fereldan Frostback, Cassandra,” Maxwell reminded.

Cassandra sighed heavily and gave a nod.

“I cannot believe we’re about to go dragon hunting with no plan,” she muttered.

“Didn’t you once fight four at once?” Maxwell asked innocently.

“I hate you and never bring that up again,” Cassandra grumbled.

Maxwell gave a little false chuckle that he knew was perfectly pitched to mimic amusement, but he felt his heart clench at the statement. “Well, we have our plan, let’s go fight the High Dragon,” Maxwell said and he felt Bull leave.

He then began to charge with a loud roar, rushing straight toward Fereldan Frostback.

“Oh, for the love of the Fade,” Maxwell said, throwing a Barrier over the remaining three, though barely in time to catch Cassandra.

“Let’s go. Those hexagon shaped rocks seem close enough together to rush across,” Maxwell said, pointing.

“Yes!” Sera shouted and took off, Maxwell quick on her heels as he brought his staff to bear.

* * *

The Fereldan Frostback let out a roar and lurched to the right as she lifted her left leg up, nearly unbalancing. She barely seemed to notice when an arrow sunk into her head. “Ah come on! Pay attention to that!” Sera shouted, almost in Maxwell’s ear.

“Sera, my Barriers only hold up against so much,” Maxwell retorted, even as he threw a Winter’s Grasp at the Frostback’s head.

 _That_ she seemed to notice and she began to shift her weight.

“Shite!” Maxwell said and grabbed Sera around the waist.

“What the--” Sera exclaimed, but Maxwell didn’t have time to explain, just pulled her down so they were behind some of the rocks just as a loud, screeching, squealing, roar began to peal through the air.

Maxwell ducked his head slightly, unable to clasp his hands over his ears like he wanted to, feeling like the inside of his head had been struck as Sera let out a loud curse, clapping both hands over her ears, smacking Maxwell in the face with her bow in the process.

They both sat there, dazed, even as a plume of fire struck where they _had_ been standing shortly after that roar. “Shite, oh, frigging shite flaming _piss_ ,” Sera exclaimed and Maxwell chuckled breathlessly.

“Let’s go,” he said and got to his feet, immediately throwing out a Blizzard when he saw the dragonlings starting to swarm down.

Bull seemed to hardly notice and Maxwell cursed as he pressed a hand to Sera’s shoulder. “Stay here!” he ordered as he rushed down.

He ignored the way his right ankle wobbled slightly under his weight.

He beelined straight for Bull, setting down three Winter’s Mines as he did so, not surprised when they immediately went off. He was also not surprised when he was sure a chunk of the frozen flesh hit his back, likely also with some blood when they were likely shattered by Cassandra ramming into them with her shield.

Bull was barely coherent as the magical Blizzard raged around them, Maxwell making sure to sustain it, the spell draining his mana.

“Bull!” he shouted, only for his words to be whipped away from them with the wind.

He frowned and the pulled out a Regeneration Potion from his bag. Without hesitation, he threw it at Bull’s back.

It shattered immediately and Maxwell hoped it was enough, only to let out a curse as the Frostback landed practically on top of them with another roar.

Maxwell let go of the Blizzard and slammed a Lightning Bolt straight up into the Frostback’s stomach.

She let out another roar and jumped away slightly, Maxwell taking advantage of it to rush out. He grunted when he was suddenly _yanked_ back, as if by a sharp breeze. He thought he felt it cut across his face, and he thought there was maybe a shout of his name.

He hit the ground on his back, all air forced out of his lung as he was dragged a few feet across the ground, before the breeze stopped. He twisted up onto his feet and saw the Frostback rearing back to spew fire at him.

Hope immediately sprang around him, rushing to cover him in a barrier even as Maxwell threw up his hand, casting a Winter’s Grasp right into her mouth.

The ice shot out, some of it imbedding in the roof of her mouth and she shook her head, obviously disoriented as Maxwell got to his feet.

He let out an Energy Barrage, followed quickly by him Fade Stepping straight through her right leg, leaving ice crystals in her leg. He twisted around, feeling lightning crackle and strike off of him, hitting her right leg. Maxwell twisted the Fade around him, briefly and then lifted his left hand, opening a rift right over her right shoulder.

The Frostback let out a roar of pain as Maxwell moved, rushing out from under her, barely avoiding a slash of her back foot at him. He twisted around, casting three Ice Mines directly under her and let out a sound was he was suddenly grabbed by Cassandra.

Before he could say anything, Cassandra was dropping slightly, shield tilted up in time to catch most of the flames against her shield. “What happened to staying at range?” Cassandra demanded.

“I know what severe blood loss looks like,” Maxwell retorted, ignoring the way the heat was hot enough to give both himself, and Cassandra, minor burns.

“We are _never_ doing this again,” Cassandra growled.

“What about the Crestwood dragon?” Maxwell asked and then slipped away from her quickly, Fade Stepping across the field before he twisted, facing the Frostback.

She collapsed slightly and Maxwell threw out his hand, placing a Static Cage right over her and using up the last of his, useable, mana.

It had that faint, odd, echo in his chest and he grinned sharply as he began to just case through his staff.

The Winter magic coursed through and he moved, spinning the staff around, trying to wrap ambient magic around to power the basic spells beyond what could naturally be cast with through the staff.

He twisted around and sent out an Energy Barrage as he did so, doubling on that faint ache in his chest.

He shifted his staff, bringing it around, slamming a basic spell right into the Frostback’s eye.

She let out another roar of pain and shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the ice.

Maxwell exhaled shakily as he continued to move, throwing the basic spells through the staff, noticing when the ice clung a little more, held a little longer. Bull went charging under her belly, slicing at her stomach as he went with a loud war cry before he swung his axe, hard, into her back leg.

The Frostback started to collapse and Cassandra drove her sword straight into the dragon’s chest before she seemed to _pull_.

Maxwell stared as the blood splattered out and Sera made a noise.

The Frostback swayed and then collapsed to the ground, the blood still spilling out from the wound Cassandra and sliced through her chest.

“Are you alright Sera?” Maxwell asked as he turned toward her and raised an eyebrow at how wild-eyed she was.

“Yeah! I mean, yes, I'm alive. Really…alive!” Sera said, sounding breathless and excited and awestruck all at once.

“Up for a second then? In a few days’ time?” Maxwell asked.

“Yes!” Sera shouted, grinning manically at Maxwell.

Maxwell smiled a little and turned to walk over to the other two, ignoring the way his ankle wobbled under him again, though it made him stumble a little.

He used his staff to catch himself so he wouldn’t fall to the ground.

He smiled slightly to see that Bull was back, though his eye was still a little wild and he glanced at him, then at Cassandra. “Is everyone alright?” Maxwell asked.

“See the way everything lit up when it tried to fry us?” Bull asked and let out a loud, booming, laugh.

“Now that? _That’s_ a _fight!”_ he shouted.

“I’ll live,” Cassandra groused quietly.

Maxwell smiled a little and shook his head slightly. “We’ll have some Inquisition members dissect the Fereldan Frostback for parts, such as dragon bone and teeth, and anything else that could be useful,” Maxwell said and glanced around.

“Let’s find her hoard,” he added.

“Yes! Payday!” Sera cheered as she quickly skipped up past Maxwell, heading for what looked like a circling path up to the top.

They would check there first.

* * *

“Belt,” Sera said and tossed it over toward Cassandra, who barely caught it in time.

“Mine,” she added, shoving what looked like garnets into her own bag.

“Shiny stick for you Ser Lordybloomers,” she said and tossed a staff toward Maxwell.

He easily caught it, noting the fancy golden grip as well as the blade at the bottom that was a lyrium blue almost.

“Necklace,” Sera said and threw that towards Bull.

“Magic rock,” she said and threw that toward Maxwell as well.

This he barely caught it in time to keep from flying over the edge of the cliff.

It seemed to be a Sigil, but not one Maxwell was familiar with. “And mine,” Sera said, looking like she just shoved a great deal of gold into her bag.

“Well, I think this was fairly successful, don’t you?” she asked cheerfully.

“Let’s go check further back,” Maxwell said with a small shake of his head.

Sera giggled as she rushed past them all, obviously racing to beat them back down the trail.

“You really shouldn’t encourage her,” Cassandra said.

“If I don’t, how will she grow?” Maxwell asked and began to make his way down.

When his right ankle wobbled again, Bull easily caught him to keep him from crashing down the path.

Maxwell thanked him quietly and Bull gave a shrug.

“No problem, Boss,” he answered with a grin.


	21. Campfire After the Fereldan Frostback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEED THE WARNINGS SERIOUSLY!!!!
> 
> **Warnings:** Maxwell has some minor sensory flashbacks, emetophobia, Seheron, death mention, mention of death wish, mention of suicidal thoughts, and a somewhat graphic mention of a very young child death. Very. Young.

* * *

 

Maxwell shook his head slightly as he watched Sera regaling some of the younger scouts, or possibly soldiers, with their fight against the Fereldan Frostback. He smiled and focused back down on his foot, debating if he should remove the boot now or later. Now would likely be bet-

Maxwell sat up ramrod straight as a hand clasped on his upper back, thumb pressing against the backside of his neck. For a moment, the crackling of the fire faded into background noise, and he could feel a faint sick feeling. There was bitter, harsh, feeling in the back of his throat and he swallowed harshly.

“--bad a plan,” Cassandra said.

Maxwell blinked a bit and gave a small shrug, shifting so her hand was off of him, but he felt a little removed, distant.

Her hand felt like it was burned into his skin now.

Or maybe it wasn’t hers, not really, but it still felt like it burned.

“Which part?” Maxwell asked, not sure what she had asked him.

“While not well thought out, it wasn’t that bad a plan. Going for the legs was a wise choice, as it brought it down closer to our level to allow us the killing blow,” Cassandra explained.

“Well, big creature. Weight bearing down like that, I didn’t think she would be able to hold herself up well once we injured her legs enough,” Maxwell said quietly and cleared his throat.

He couldn’t get rid of that feeling.

The spot she had touched still burned.

“Sorry, Cassandra. I think I need to go to bed. I was drifting a little, staring off into nothing,” he said quietly as he slowly stood up.

“Of course, Inquisitor. Good night,” Cassandra said almost cheerfully and Maxwell went straight to the tent he was sharing with Iron Bull.

They were all sharing tonight.

Maxwell sat down on his bed roll and curled up, tucking his head between his knees as he focused on breathing, suddenly feeling lightheaded. He focused on breathing, and there was that _feeling_ , and the hand was still _burning_ where it had once touched him.

He thought he had a faint sensation of fingers in his hair, and he was breathing too sharply as he wrangled with his thoughts and faint memory sensations.

He shivered and rocked a little, swallowing convulsively. He startled when he heard a sound and his head snapped up to find himself staring at Bull.

“Bull,” he whispered, sounding far too choked.

He shuddered a little and he then scrambled. Bull was quick to shove a pot under his mouth as he heaved into it, his dinner coming up immediately.

He heaved for a few moments later, still feeling sick, that burning across his shoulders, a slight push against his neck, that feeling that _shouldn’t be there_ in his mouth, and burning across his lips that had nothing to do with the vomit.

He heaved again and Bull made a low noise. “I’m gonna touch your back. You alright with that Boss?” Bull asked and Maxwell stilled.

He struggled with a response and then gave a nod. “Fine,” he croaked out and he was surprised when the hand Bull used was the one with missing fingers.

Or partial missing fingers.

Maxwell shuddered a little and Bull just kept his hand there. “You good for deep breaths?” Bull asked and Maxwell nodded again.

He started to breathe, deeply and slowly, trembling and still feeling distinctly ill.

Bull’s hand didn’t move, he just stayed there, crouched down, which couldn’t be comfortable, and once Maxwell was calmer, took the pot away. “Thank you,” Maxwell said quietly and Bull lifted his hand away.

Maxwell shivered a little from the removal of the heat, but it didn’t burn.

Everything else did.

At least the phantom sensations were manageable, no longer feeling as if they were occurring all at once, at that very moment.

“Did I ever tell you about Seheron?” Bull asked.

“No,” Maxwell answered quietly.

“It was bad and getting worse when I left. Between the Fog Warriors, the Tal-Vashoth, us, and the Vints, we didn’t go a day without blood. The Fog Warriors were stealth tactics. I would be patrolling in a market square and a fog would roll in and suddenly half my squad would be dead. But the never used poison, never hurt civilians. Got to respect them for that. And they hit the Vints as hard as they hit us,” Bull said quietly.

“The Vints though. The Vints would send forces every Autumn. Good fights on the beaches, the bloodied sea frothing around our feet as the ships were on fire around us. But the worse were their spies, who bloodied Seheron year-round. They slaughtered loyalists, supported rebels, Alam had no city administrator. No one would accept the position after the last four died with a year of being appointed. Trying to conquer a country is one thing and making it so no one can live there is just screwing everything up,” Bull said quietly, shifting a little.

Likely to ease up some pain in his legs, since he wasn’t really moving.

“What about the civilians, in the middle of all of this?” Maxwell asked before he could stop himself.

Bull’s eye got a little darker, a little distant.

“There was this one guy I knew. Made these fish wraps, talked to him every day. One day, I’m asking him about his bad back, I can tell he’s nervous and trying to tell me something with his eyes. Next thing I know, his assistants draw knives and come at my team. The rebels had forced him to poison my food, but I hadn’t eaten anything because I saw how nervous he was. A couple of my squad weren’t so lucky. We killed the rebels, lost two men to the poison and knife wounds, and my friend who made the fish wraps died with a knife in his throat. Close quarters fight and he was caught in the middle. _That_ is what it was like for the natives of Seheron,” Bull responded quietly.

Maxwell swallowed at that and looked at him. “What about--never mind. I can guess,” he said quietly and his fingers twitched.

“What did you do?” Maxwell asked.

“What do you mean?” Bull responded.

“When it started to overwhelm you, what happened?” Maxwell asked quietly.

“One day I just…didn’t think it meant anything to me anymore. I had no idea why I was doing it. I was considering just letting one of the Fog Warriors take me. So I turned myself into the reeducators,” Bull responded.

“Brave of you,” Maxwell said quietly and Bull looked over him.

“From my point of view. I couldn’t have done that. I would have let a Fog Warrior kill me,” he added.

“You’re still here. And you didn’t have a reeducator to help with that,” Bull corrected.

“That wasn’t bravery. The only reason I didn’t take a tincture of concentrated deathrooot or frame myself for blood magic so the Templars would kill me was because of my charges,” Maxwell argued.

“You lived for other people. You held on for other people. That’s brave, Boss,” Bull said quietly and then carefully placed his hand back on Maxwell’s back.

“I’m going to go take care of the pot. You should probably start looking after your ankle,” he finished and picked up the pot before he slipped back out.

Maxwell sat there for a while longer and then settled more on his sleeping mat and began to carefully pull his right boot off, followed by the useless brace, apparently. He sighed quietly as he brought forth some Winter magic and held the cold over his ankle, closing his eyes as some stress from the pain was released.

He opened his eyes quickly when he saw little four-year-old Marigold flash across his vision.

The worst part of that image was the fact her right arm hadn’t been cut through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated myself heavily with where to put this. I decided to put it into the main story because it does move it forward. It has some important moments. And I kinda wanted to start showing Maxwell bonding more with his Companions and not keep that all to the Pieces. I've done enough of that. So here you go.


	22. The High Dragons Part 02: Northern Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Death of a High Dragon, Maxwell Gets Injured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly, this is just the High Dragon Fight.
> 
> No big warnings, that I noticed. If something triggered you, drop a comment (or an ask @ https://martyrfanfic.tumblr.com), and I'll edit.

* * *

Maxwell sighed quietly as the rain began to fall on their third day along the lake path that lead to Crestwood.

The drizzle was somewhat chilly and Solium snorted, shaking his head slightly as the rode. “Frigging rain,” Sera grumbled.

Maxwell gave a quiet chuckle.

“Frigging rain,” he agreed quietly and Sera cackled.

She almost unseated herself, but a loud squeak had her righting herself.

Temperance didn’t even falter.

* * *

“That sounds like a Northern Hunter,” Cassandra said as she read over everything that the dragon had eaten since the last time Maxwell had been there.

“He ate a horse. Poor thing,” Maxwell said quietly, ignoring the odd looks he got.

“He also bit a person in half,” Cassandra remarked.

“This is true. The poor horse was probably his,” Maxwell answered and sighed as he moved to head back to where their mounts waited at the gate.

“Think this one will have any good loot?” Sera asked.

“I have no idea,” Maxwell responded and Sera cackled as she hurried to Temperance.

Maxwell almost felt sorry for his gelding, having been put to the task of carrying those who were new riders, but he seemed to take it in stride. He was going to have to give the horse some more affection when they returned to Skyhold.

As well as some well-deserved rest. Valor was likely wanting to come out, and it would be easy enough to accomplish.

“The dragon’s out by some old ruins. Cassandra, what do you know of the Northern Hunter?” Maxwell asked as he settled on Solium’s back.

“They eat _anything,”_ Cassandra answered and Bull laughed, loud and stomach deep.

Maxwell swallowed back his fear and desire to hiss at Bull to tone it down.

Sera cackled and Maxwell gave a small smile before he turned to walk to where their mounts waited.

* * *

Maxwell sighed quietly as he saw the way the Northern Hunter growled and paced. This one didn’t seem as…wild, almost, as the Fereldan Frostback. He shifted his weight and Solium snorted quietly, pawing at the ground. “Do they usually move like that?” Maxwell asked, watching as a Druffalo wandered closer.

The dragon leapt at it, and, somehow, missed. It let out a growl and, barely, managed to catch the Druffalo on the second try.

“Cassandra?” Maxwell pressed quietly and Cassandra’s attention snapped to him.

“No, they don’t. It’s…strange. Northern Hunters generally live up to their name,” Cassandra said with narrowed eyes.

“Beyond that?” Maxwell asked quietly.

“They shoot lightning,” Cassandra said.

“Wonderful,” Maxwell answered as he shifted slightly in the saddle.

“What’s the plan Boss?” Bull asked with a sharp grin and his eye starting to go wild again.

“Go for the legs and try not to get eaten,” Maxwell responded and Cassandra let out a disgusted sound.

“Sera, you and I are going to keep at range, but at opposite ends. I can see a few ruins dotted through here that we might be able to use as a combination of perches and shields,” he said.

“How about I throw Sera onto the back of the dragon?” Bull asked.

“No,” Maxwell said in a flat tone at the same time Sera let out a loud shout of, “Yes!”

Sera than frowned. “Wait, no. We’d have to practice. Could we get a wood dragon built so Bull and I can practice that?” Sera asked.

“No,” Maxwell responded.

“But it would be _perfect_ , Boss, and then the recruits could be trained how to take down _dragons_ ,” Bull said as Maxwell began to turn Solium away so they could leave their mounts at the nearby camp.

“There is not going to be any wooden dragon built at Skyhold so you two can practice throwing Sera onto the back of one, _or_ teach soldiers how to _fight one_ ,” Maxwell repeated as he continued to ride toward the camp.

“Aww, Ser Lordybloomers,” Sera said, quickly catching up.

Maxwell glanced over and smiled slightly as Sera, distracted by trying to talk Maxwell into having a wooden dragon added to Skyhold, was riding at a trot with proper posting.

* * *

Maxwell sighed as he balanced on the balls of his feet, watching the Northern Hunter.

“Really, Boss, really?” Bull asked and Maxwell gave a small wave of his hand.

“Sorry, sorry, just…there are a lot of ruins and rubble. And I don’t know everything that this dragon can do,” Maxwell muttered.

“Can we get to the smashing? I want loot,” Sera asked.

Cassandra gave a quiet sound of disgust, and Maxwell ignored them.

“Barrier incoming,” Maxwell said simply and threw a barrier around them.

“Yes!” Bull roared and then charged forward.

Sera let out her own cheer and began to take the long route around, her poisoned arrow already coming up and sinking straight into the Northern Hunter’s head in a heartbeat. She then smashed a bottle on her and she disappeared in a flicker of lightning and giggles.

Maxwell felt Cassandra rush past as he began to run the other way from Sera, hoping to circle around so he could aim toward the dragon’s back legs. “Aim for the back left first!” he shouted, doubting Sera fully heard him.

Cassandra ran right under the dragon’s chest, narrowly avoiding getting lashed at, Bull slamming his axe into the dragon’s front foot, to slam into the dragon’s back left leg.

Maxwell threw out a Winter’s Grasp without a thought and began to _move_ , ignoring the wobble of his right ankle under his weight.

* * *

Maxwell choked on his scream of pain as the strange lightning attack hit him.

It felt like he was being pricked all over, stabbed with a thousand needles in an inch of skin all over. His voice was choking in his throat and he moved, barely able to ignore the pain to _slam_ an Immolate into her mouth, opened after the breath attack she had just hit him with.

She let out a roar and tossed her head back, even as Maxwell stumbled a few steps back. He then began to throw Immolates at a faster pace than he likely should, feeling that slight strain on his mana as he continued, having them blast along her head, distracting her from his companions.

He continued, even as she began to move around to focus on him.

Maxwell continued before he fell back on his staff, throwing ambient magic through his staff, twisting and turning.

As the Northern Hunter reared up to hit him with her breath weapon, Maxwell _moved_ , rushing over to hide behind the half-collapsed building, curling up tight as the lightning crackled, striking at the stone as it sparked across it.

Maxwell was breathing hard, still feeling like he was being stabbed all over by a few thousand needles per square inch of skin, and he gasped quietly as it upped in intensity.

He shuddered and yelped, moving quickly when the Northern Hunter suddenly _knocked over_ the building. He barely managed to avoid getting buried, but a piece of masonry flew off, striking him in the head.

He stumbled and twisted, throwing another Immolate right into her rearing mouth.

“Ah, shit!” Sera shouted, even as Maxwell scrambled, his limbs feeling heavy.

Hope sprang up around him, a circling barrier as Maxwell threw another spell.

He was hit with another strike of electricity.

This time he did scream, and he thought he saw lightning leap off of him, striking uselessly at the Northern Hunter.

“Hold on, boss!” Bull shouted, even as Maxwell threw a Winter’s Grasp, seeing how the ice clung to her neck.

He backed further and coughed as he was suddenly yanked forward as she began to beat her wings.

He hit the ground, feeling himself being scraped up as he was pulled across the ground. He tumbled and slowly began to push himself up, quickly Fade-Stepping through.

He stumbled as he walked through her back left leg, feeling woozy as he panted for air.

There was that heaviness still, and a twist in his chest and stomach. He turned and threw another spell.

The Northern Hunter swayed and Maxwell drew up his reserves, and threw out a Wall of Fire.

“Move!” he shouted as he began to push it forward.

He saw Cassandra break off quickly, along with Bull, though Sera seemed well out of the clear as two arrows sunk into the Northern Hunter’s head.

She screamed, shaking her head, the arrows buried deep in the skin near her eye.

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra shouted as the Wall of Fire hit the dragon.

She screamed and began to thrash, the fire catching across scales and onto the wings. Maxwell quickly jumped away, watching as she began to struggle, wavering, her head lowering and two more arrows sunk right into her eye.

She reared back, but it was enough as she crashed down onto the ground, flames flickering around her.

Maxwell panted quietly and didn’t twitch when Sera stormed over, then promptly punched him in the arm. “Don’t do that again!” she snapped and stormed off.

“Where’s my loot?” she demanded as Maxwell leaned on his staff.

His fingers were twitching and he stared.

“Let’s have Inquisition scouts come and cut her up,” he said quietly, and he made a low sound as one of Bull’s hands came to rest on his back.

“Yeah, ‘course Boss,” he said.

Maxwell swayed slightly. “Catch him!” Cassandra shouted as Maxwell’s knees buckled.

Bull quickly did, Maxwell suddenly finding himself over a large, well-muscled, grey shoulder. There was a screeching bellow and Maxwell groaned as he heard Solium coming closer.

Sera was letting out her nervous cackle and Maxwell let his head fall in the direction of Bull’s upper back.

This day just got better and better.


End file.
